


It's A Bet

by vitamindesi



Series: It's A Bet 'Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Dean, Dare, Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, Infidelity, John Winchester's Bad Parenting, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Party, Top Castiel, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 05:09:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1254043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vitamindesi/pseuds/vitamindesi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off of a fic prompt on tumblr:<br/>Destiel College!AU in which freshman Dean is dared by his best friends to hit on senior Castiel at a party. He wants to say no but then someone starts a bet and Benny bets a sum that is ridiculously high for a student and Dean can’t disappoint Benny, right?<br/>I deviated from the prompt slightly, but hopefully it suffices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Winchester!”  a shout pulled Dean from his reverie; his not so discreet reverie involving the hot blonde chick he had just been eyeing. He whipped around to see Gordon staring at him darkly. “What the hell is a freshman doing here?” he grunted.

Dean’s stomach clenched nervously. Gordon and Chuck were juniors, both on the college football team and quite fond of jumping at freshman in the hallways, pulling the dorm fire alarms, placing bets on who would get in trouble. It was never any outright hazing, but it was enough to make Dean’s heart begin to race uncomfortably. He hadn’t planned on seeing them here. Which of course, was _really_ stupid on his part, considering that when he’d learned about the party, he was told it was explicitly for juniors and seniors, save for a few special underclassmen who were fitting into the university nicely. “I, uh. Becky invited me!” he finally blurted.

Becky Johnson was a cute junior that had a soft spot for freshman, looking for any way to ease their first year of college. There were several rumors that she did this frequently on her knees. She had invited Dean along to the party during the week at lunch, walking confidently up to him with her cherry red lipstick and sweet pea perfume, pressing a feather-light kiss to his cheek when he agreed to show.

He spent the rest of the lunch period hiding his boner from his friends, his jacket held tightly in his lap.

Gordon snorted. “Of course she did, the whore.” He reached forward, snatching the red cup from Dean’s hand and taking a whiff of it before raising a contemplative brow. “Think youre a hot shot, huh, drinking the good stuff?”

Dean took a hesitant, somewhat unplanned step backwards. “Uh, no. No I don’t. I just came here to have a good time man, just like you guys. Needed a break from studying,”

Chuck laughed loudly at that. “A good time with a little pipsqueak like you running around? Oh hell no! I’m afraid to step on you!”

Dean’s fists clench at his sides and he had already begun unconsciously looking for possible exits. Suddenly, Chuck stepped towards him, or lunged? And Dean bolted. His lean body leapt through the throng of people and he bounded up the stairs, three at a time, finding the nearest door and throwing himself through it.

 _This was so goddamn stupid_ , he thought to himself, leaning against the door, trying desperately to catch his breath. He had just been so stressed. John had disappeared (again) that Monday, leaving Dean to fend for he and Sam (again). He had spent the week making excuses for his father, walking Sam to the bus stop every morning and then sprinting to the college (a whole three quarters of a mile), sliding into his first class mere seconds before the door shut for the class. His professor always raised a curious eyebrow but never asked. He wasn’t late, so why would she?

So of course, on Wednesday when Becky invited him, he said yes. He stole a box of Kraft macaroni on his way home for Sam to have for dinner. At nine pm, right before he left, he gave his younger brother explicit instructions to do his dishes, brush his teeth, and to be in bed by eleven. Sam had bitched and moaned about it, stomping around while Dean got changed, but the second the front door closed, he was on his computer, calling his friend, demanding that he log on because they had all night.

Of course, as luck would have it, there was already a couple in the room that Dean had chosen to lock himself into. His luck stretched even further when he recognized his close friend Benny and his girlfriend. “ _Fuck_ ,” he whispered under his breath. Benny was cool, Benny had his back in almost every single situation. Every single situation that didn’t involved Chuck and Gordon.

“Winchester!” there was a furious pounding at the door. “We know you’re in there pipsqueak! C’mon out, we don’t bite!”

A leer broke out across Benny’s face as he assessed the situation. His girlfriend tried to speak up and he merely hushed her with a kiss. “I’ll be right back, sweetheart.”

“What mess did you get yourself into now, brotha? And how in the hell are you even here?” he laughed.

Dean palmed his eyes. “Benny, I don’t fucking know anymore. Just get those guys to leave me alone and I swear to God I will go home.”

Benny laughed, practically picking Dean up to move him from being in front of the door. Benny wasn’t bulky, per say, but he had plenty of muscle to make Dean effectively feel like a twig. That feeling was only heightened in the presence of Benny’s other friends.

“You ain’t going home Dean.” he swung the door open and greeted with Chuck and Gordon with a high five, fist bump combo that went so quickly Dean’s head spun for a moment. “What are you fuckers doing with my friend here?” he asked, still wearing that too large grin.

“The little freshman is gonna get underfoot. There’s two games of beer pong, a round of body shots happening and god knows how many people are getting laid around here. No place for him!”

Benny merely chuckled, clapping a large hand over Gordon’s shoulder. “Nah, Dean knows his way around. ‘Underfoot’ isn’t even part of his vocabulary.” In that, Benny was mostly right. Dean knew where not to get underfoot, and where he could get away with it. It’d been a talent he’d learned at a young age, avoiding his father’s fists and harsh words. It had gotten him into college, had gotten him his several letters of recommendation.

“Guys, seriously,” Dean finally spoke up again. “Just let me by, I’ll go home. I’m obviously not hip enough to share space with the upperclassmen.” Acid and anger leaked into his voice. _One_ night. That was all he had wanted and now it was smashed to smithereens.

“Hey, wait. Not so fast,” Gordon said slowly. “You can stay…under one condition.”

Dean rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. Chuck completed Gordon’s idea. “You’re such a ladies man...Go flirt with Castiel.”

Dean’s chin dropped and he glared up at the other boys. “Are you fucking _kidding_ me?” he gawked. “What-why would you- _what the fuck_?!”

“You know the guy, right?” Gordon smirked at him, ignoring his outburst. “Dark, brooding asshole of a senior?”

Dean knew him alright. He was a prick of a guy, with hair that defied gravity and shockingly blue eyes that could swallow a person whole. He had a graceful glide to his walk, an aura that caused other students to move out of his path without so much of a look, or even a word. It actually shocked Dean that the guy was even here. He seemed the tortured-artist type, more willing to stay home and make charcoal paintings than spend a night in a crowded house full of strangers. He was currently in said house, leaning against a wall, staring disinterestedly out at the party around him.

“I bet he won’t do it,” Chuck added. “Chicken shit. Can barely keep a girl, even!”

“Twenty bucks man. Twenty bucks that he won’t be able to grow a pair,” Gordon guffawed.

“Fifty!”

Benny’s eyes narrowed. “Three hundred bucks, guys. He’ll do it.”

In an instant, Dean’s spine straightened. Benny was hardly making ends meet, living off of ramen and the discounted fruit and veggies from Stop and Shop. He had a bike with loose screws he had to replace so often that he kept a screwdriver taped to the bars and tires that were practically falling apart. Dean knew about his frequent arguments with the people at financial aid, barely paying on time. Gordon and Chuck both raised shocked eyebrows at that, but they all shook on it and Dean felt his heart sink.

“Well,” Dean drawled the word out, looking at the other boys. “Since you all seem so invested in this, I don’t see why I can’t try.” _It’s just like hitting on girls,_ he encouraged himself. _Just to get Benny out of hot water._

“Go for it Winchester,” Gordon snickered. “Good luck!”

Dean had seen Castiel Novak when he walked into the party. When he glanced around, he could still see the quiet senior hadn’t moved from his perch by the stairs. He swallowed, stepping into the moving crowd of bodies, walking towards Castiel. He wished that he had drank more whiskey before running into Gordon and Chuck. And Benny, that traitor. He perched himself next to Castiel, leaving his hands in his pockets, propping his left foot against the wall behind him. He felt Castiel give him a sideways look, but said nothing. Across the room, Chuck, Gordon and Benny were staring. Benny had a slightly panicked look on his face, as though he were waiting for Dean to bail.

As if.

“So, you don’t seem to be the type to come to frat parties,” Dean finally said, cocking his head to the side, looking at Castiel.

Castiel merely turned to him, blue eyes practically glowing in the poor lighting of the living room. He had a small coating of stubble over his chin and cheeks, laugh lines creasing around his eyes. “What’s my type?” he finally asked.

Dean shrugged, surveying the party again. “Not the weed-smoking, perpetually drunk type, at least,” he said with a confident grin. His heart was thundering beneath his ribs. Was he actually flirting? Was it any different, really, than flirting with a girl?

From the corner of his eye, Dean saw Castiel smirk. “You don’t seem to know me that well,” he said, his voice low, amusement coloring his tone.

Dean shrugged, finally looking at Castiel head-on, and put on his best panty-flinging smile, closing his eyes just slightly. “Any chance I could find out?” The words were daring, and very likely to follow him around for the rest of his college career but he watched those blue eyes widen in surprise, and he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Suddenly, strong hands were gripping his shoulders. The room disappeared, replaced by Castiel’s face, up close, his breath tickling Dean’s nose. He could smell alcohol and a faint clean scent of soap. Castiel had a predatory smirk on his face. His eyes roved hungrily up and down Dean’s body. “Not for nothing,” he finally murmured. “But the last person who looked at me like that, I got laid.”

Dean’s eyes had widened and, inexplicably, he felt himself harden in his jeans. Before he had time to really panic, or protest even, a mouth was pressed to his and- _oh_. Castiel’s mouth was pressed to his, lips warm and chapped, insistent and overpowering.  Dean gasped, and Castiel took it as an invitation, plunging his tongue into Dean’s mouth. He tasted of tequila and smoke and just like that Dean was _addicted_.

He found his head again, and feverishly kissed Castiel back. He was rewarded with a groan of pleasure, his shoulder blades being pressed harder into the wall. Castiel’s hands were running insistently all over him; his chest, his hips, his ass, his neck. Just as he acknowledged his hands being in one place, they were suddenly somewhere else. A low moan of pleasure was building in Dean’s throat, a twist of pleasure flaring up in his gut.

Castiel broke away, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Dean’s neck, his hands squeezing his hips hard. “Let me hear you,” Castiel whispered, licking the shell of Dean’s ear.

Dean unraveled, moaning, his hips thrusting into air, looking for some kind of friction to ease the pressure in his groin. He managed to peel his eyes open, finding Benny, Chuck and Gordon across the room. Their jaws were hanging, eyes wide with disbelief. Castiel bit down over Dean’s clavicle and his eyes fell shut again, the sensation overwhelming.

“What do you say we get out of here?” Castiel’s voice was low and dangerous in Dean’s ear. “As much as I appreciate your friend’s concern, I’m not one for exhibitionism.”

Reality suddenly came flying back, a punch in Dean’s face. “Wait,” he gasped. “Wait, you don’t even know my name.”

Castiel didn’t reply. Instead, he spun Dean around, putting his chest to his back, continually kissing and licking Dean’s neck as he guided them to the front door of the house. “Dean Winchester,” he murmured. “Freshman at KU, studying mechanical engineering.” He pushed them through the front door, the cool air raising gooseflesh over their skin. “You’re always late to your mornings classes and you like your coffee ‘black as sin’.”

Dean shivered, trying to focus beyond Castiel’s tongue on his neck. “You’re a fucking stalker,” he grunted.

Castiel laughed, guiding Dean towards the dorm rooms. “Not at all. I work at the cafe every morning. I’ve seen your card countless times, and I think you checked your watch twenty-six times once while I brewed a fresh pot of coffee. You accidentally left a copy of your schedule on the counter the first time I saw you.”

“You’re so creepy,” Dean bit out as Castiel’s hand dipped below his shirt, fingers teasing at the waistband of his jeans.

“You’re flattered, don’t lie.”

They were at Castiel’s dorm now. He shoved Dean into the room, following after, only to shut the door quietly, and coolly lean back on it. “So what was the dare?” he finally asked.

Dean stomach clenched, boner disappearing almost instantly. “Listen man, I’m really sorry, I didn’t think-”

Castiel only laughed, shoving off of the door and turning the light on in his kitchen. He retrieved a cup from the cabinet, filling it with water before handing it to Dean. “I’m not mad,” he laughed. “I honestly don’t care. I’m just curious.”

Dean shrugged, staring at his reflection in the cup of water. “They were gonna kick me out. I just wanted a night to chill, you know? Then they’re telling me to go hit on you, and my best friend bets three hundred dollars that he doesn’t have and...well, yeah. That happened.”

Castiel smiled, large and almost unsettling. “I have to say...that has to be the most well-placed bet I’ve ever been on the receiving end for.”

Dean frowned, almost inhaling his water. “Huh?”

Castiel shrugged, feeling shy all of a sudden. “You’re hot. I’m not really a people person. And then you approached me and I had a chance so I took it.

Dean felt his eyes bulge. “Dude you basically sucked my tongue down your throat. Yeah, I’d say you took your opportunity!”

“Do you regret it?” Castiel pinned him with sharp eyes, his voice suddenly somber.

Dean felt his heart stop for a moment, stuttering and then picking up even faster. “No,” he finally said, his throat dry. “No, not really.”

A smirk grew on Castiel’s face. “I’d have to ask you to leave if you did. But you don’t. So in that case, take your pants off. I’m going to ruin you for everyone else, men and women alike.

And if Dean said his cock didn’t leap up at that, he’d certainly be lying, considering he winced when the blood rushed downwards so quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [Emma](http://destielallaround.tumblr.com/) for the lovely artwork!


	2. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Porn. This is literally just almost 2k words of porn.

Dean was in Castiel’s dorm room, which was thankfully a single. His bed had jersey tee soft sheets, and a dark blue heavy comforter. He had more pillows than were really appropriate, and Dean found himself wading through them to situate himself. His jeans were gracelessly thrown over Castiel’s desk chair, his shirt over it. Suddenly, he was very self conscious of the bright blue boxer briefs he chose, the stain of precum painfully obvious in the middle of them.

At that moment, Castiel sauntered in, having already divested himself of his shirt. Hungry blue eyes roved over Dean and he shifted uncomfortably, fingers playing with a frayed pillow edge, resisting the urge to pull it over himself. Castiel licked his lips, gliding slowly towards the bed. “Don’t cover up,” he murmured, pulling himself over Dean, running his fingertips up the inside of Dean’s leg. “God, I thought I’d never get to see you this way. Thought I’d only catch you running through the hallways, be making your coffee til graduation.” His fingers caught on the hem of Dean’s boxer briefs, tickling the fine hair there. Dean flinched, inhaling quietly.

“I, uh, I’ve never,” Dean stammered, licking his lips. “I’ve never been with-”

Castiel covered Dean’s lips with a steady finger. “I’ll take care of you.” His voice was soft, reassuring. “If you want me to stop, I’ll stop.” Dean nodded, pretending his hands weren’t shaking at his sides.

Castiel smiled a little bit, his eyes crinkling at the sides. He slipped his finger into the waistband of Dean’s briefs, teasing his nail along the skin there, watching Dean’s pupils dilate and then his eyes fall shut. It was intoxicating. Every fiber of Castiel’s being ached with want, the overwhelming urge to flip Dean onto his stomach and pound ruthlessly into him ran through his veins. He took a deep shuddering breath, steadying himself. No. He had to take this slowly. He had to make this last as long as possible.

His fingers found Dean’s dick then, and Dean arched into the touch, gasping quietly. Green eyes flashed in the dim light of the room. “Could you...nnn-maybe lose the pants, m-man?”

Castiel laughed, a quiet breathless sound. He acquiesced, though, sliding off of Dean to step off of the bed. He slowly unbuttoned his pants, shimmying down his hips, allowing his boxers to go with them as well. He wanted to breath a sigh of relief as cool air hit his cock, no longer straining against the fabric of boxers and jeans. He watched Dean, who hadn’t move a single inch; watched his adam’s apple bob up and then down, his eyes wide.

He didn’t typically enjoy sex with virgins. The experience was almost always stilted and awkward, forced sounds and mechanical motions motivated from watching one too many porn videos. But Dean was...unlike any of that. He was responsive and active, a breath of fresh air.

Castiel laid himself back over Dean again, clenching his teeth when his sensitive cock was buried in the space between Dean’s hip and thigh. He felt Dean tense up, his hips shifting in tiny, barely-relieving thrusts. He pressed his lips to Dean’s, swallowing his quiet sigh, gently moving with him. The chaste kiss quickly turned into something more heated, more wanting. Dean’s hands had drifted up, firmly planting themselves at the back of Castiel’s neck, anchoring him there. He was taking shallow breaths through his nostrils between kisses, hardly able to move back even a centimeter before Dean stole his mouth again.

Dean wasn’t even sure how he was still breathing. Every breath he took, he inhaled a little bit more of Castiel, a little bit more of that bitter cigarette scent, the bite of alcohol and the lingering whiff of some cologne he’d never smelled. It was intoxicating. He was pretty sure he could kiss Castiel all night, well into the early hours of the morning, drunk off of the feeling of their lips sliding together, high from the short breaths they were sharing back and forth.

And then Castiel shifted, and their dicks were right next to each other, separated only by the thin fabric of Dean’s briefs. His hips, those traitorous things, thrust upwards and Castiel leaned back, squeezing his eyes shut, his hips pressing back into Dean’s. His moan practically echoed through the room.

Castiel smirked, trying to get his breath back. He sat up fully, hooking his thumbs into Dean’s briefs, slowly sliding them down his legs. “What do you say we continue this, Winchester?”

“God, yes,” Dean breathed, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“You can call me Castiel.”

Dean had a witty retort on the tip of his tongue, he swore that he did but then Castiel’s mouth was around his dick and all coherent thought disintegrated. Castiel’s cheeks were hollowed and Dean was pretty sure his brains were getting sucked out through his dick. Fingers fondled playfully at his balls and he wheezed.

“God, Cas, shit...don’t...don’t you fucking.. _don’t stop_!” He was babbling now, absolute nonsense, fingers tangled in Castiel’s hair, hips thrusting into that tight heat on their own accord.

Suddenly, a slick digit was circling his entrance. Dean’s thoughts fired away rapidly. _Where did the lube come from? When did the lube come from? Holy Jesus fuck fuck fuck_. Castiel’s finger was thrusting slowly in and out of him and suddenly Dean realized that Castiel was no longer sucking him down, instead, sucking a myriad of hickeys into his hip bones, around his navel as he fingered Dean open.

Gradually, another finger was added, and then another and it was _such_ a strange feeling, Dean thought to himself. He was being filled, stretched and it was so _strange_. And then Castiel crooked his fingers and Dean felt himself fly up, hips arching mindlessly into the air, incoherent sounds catching in his throat.

“Cas, Cas,” he panted. “ _Fuck_ , I don’t know if I… I can’t...I need-!” his sentence fell away as he keened in pleasure, his head thrashing to the side.

Castiel found the condom that had almost gotten lost in the tangle of blankets and pillows, tearing it open with his teeth, barely managing to roll it down his member, hissing at the touch when he slicked more lube over that.

Dean was a glorious sight to see at that moment. His blonde hair was slightly sticky with sweat, sticking to his forehead, curled around his ears. His chest was heaving with the effort to breathe, nipples pink and upright. The small trail of hair leading to his groin was matted down with sweat and smeared with precum. His eyes were half shut, his hips still grinding down on Castiel’s fingers.

Castiel removed his hand and Dean whined at the loss, his eyes opening, pinning Castiel with a pleading stare. “Shh,” he whispered, lining himself up. “I told you I’d take care of you.”

The head of his cock breached Dean and they both froze, the feeling lighting up fireworks within them. Dean was gasping, struggling to adjust to this new intrusion. Castiel was barely reigning himself in, instead pushing slowly, ever so slowly into Dean until his balls rested at Dean’s ass and he was leaned over him, panting for breath.

Beneath him, Dean whined, his eyes open wide again. “ _Fuck_ , Cas... _move_!” The demand was breathless and Castiel bit down on the inside of his cheek as he slid out halfway, and slowly moved back in, pulling a delirious groan from the two of them. He continued the pace, slow and heady, tip of his cock barely brushing Dean’s prostate. His hands were clenched around Dean’s hips, not allowing him to thrust up, not allowing him to change the pace.

The effect was amazing. Dean’s head was thrashing to the side and he was alternating between moaning and whining, begging Castiel in between incoherent murmurings. “ _Cas_ ,” he finally gasped out. “Would you just...ughn… for fuck’s sake can you please _fuck me_ already?” the question was incredulous, as if he were annoyed that he even had to ask at all.

Castiel grinned, pulling himself nearly all the way from Dean’s clenching heat. A protest was on the tip of Dean’s tongue when Castiel slammed back in, his ball smacking obscenely, filling Dean in an instant. The protest died on his tongue, instead turning to a moan. Castiel had let go of his hips, instead tangling his fingers with Dean’s, pulling his arms over his head.

With the added leverage, Castiel was able to thrust harder, faster. Dean struggled to keep up, moving his hips against Castiel’s, allowing each thrust to hit his prostate, temporarily whiting out his vision, destroying the ability to think straight. Castiel had his wrists pinned hard to the bed, in between the masses of pillows. Unbelievably, it turned Dean on even more, the inability to move his upper body, barely able to lift himself just enough to cross his ankles behind Castiel, forcing him closer.

Castiel’s thrusts were quickly becoming erratic, shorter and less rhythmic. He was grunting and moaning, Dean’s name passing his lips in between whispered curses. Below him, Dean was crying out a litany of “fuck, fuck, Cas, Cas, _fuck_!”

Castiel fell over Dean, fighting his body, fighting to keep his rhythm. “Can you come like this, Dean?” he growled. “Just from me pounding into you, your cock untouched?” His breath was heavy in Dean’s ear. “Huh? Think you can?” When Dean didn’t reply, Castiel thrust even harder, tried to speed his pace up. “Dean,” he growled. “Come.”

Dean’s eyes squeezed shut and he shouted, coming in hot white spurts across his chest. He clenched down hard around Castiel, his whole body feeling as though it were going to implode. Castiel arched back, crying out, shoving into Dean one last time before his come filled the condom.

An overwhelming silence filled the room as their breathing evened out. With a slick sound, Castiel slid out from Dean. Unconsciously, he clenched again, surprised at the discomfort of being empty all of a sudden. Without a word, Castiel peeled himself off of Dean, dropping the used condom in his garbage bin. He disappeared into the bathroom and came back with a damp cloth. Disconcertingly gentle, Castiel ran it over Dean’s midsection, cleaning up the dried cum.

Much to his disdain, Dean was already beginning to drift off in the post-orgasm bliss. He was supposed to be leaving, not falling asleep! He struggled for a moment to pull himself off of Castiel's bed, wincing at the strange pain in his rear end. A cool hand pressed to his chest, stopping his efforts. “Stay,” Castiel said, blue eyes meeting green in the darkness. Dean froze. His tone had no inflection in it whatsoever, nothing that Dean could pick up as a question or a statement. It was just there. “Please.”

He conceded, allowing Castiel to lay him back down, join him and wrap the blankets around their bodies. Normally, Dean would have objected to being the little spoon, but the moment that Castiel settled behind him, his face buried in Dean’s neck, arm wrapped tightly around his midsection, he couldn’t fight it. Hell, he’d just had sex with a dude. Anything was possible, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [Emma](http://destielallaround.tumblr.com/) for the lovely artwork!


	3. In The Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things happen. Plot is coming.

Somewhere, a phone was ringing. Dean’s phone. He could hear the rock music, muffled by the mountains of Castiel’s pillows.

 _Shit_.  Castiel’s pillows.

Dean pawed around blindly, pulling his phone from the nightstand. “Hello?” he grunted.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice was high-pitched and tinny through the phone. “Where are you?”

Dean groaned. _That_ was why he shouldn’t have stayed the night, why he should have pulled himself from the depths of Castiel’s bed, out of that orgasmic haze he’d fallen asleep in. “I’m sorry Sammy,” he finally sighed. “I got a little carried away, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, it’s okay!” Sam interrupted quickly. “Hangover, huh?”

“Uh...yeah,” he lied. “Hungover.”

“Well...just come home before dinner time? We can play Halo tonight.”

Dean smiled. “Sure thing kiddo.”

He hung up, putting his phone back and felt an arm snake around his waist, a warm body pulling closer to him. Castiel nosed Dean’s neck, inhaling the scent of sleep and sex, tightening his grip.

“Didn’t take you for a cuddler,” Dean quipped.

“Didn’t take you for a bottom.” Castiel’s voice rumbled in his ear, sending heat straight to Dean’s groin.

He wanted to be angry at the comment, wanted to push Castiel off of him, but instead he only chuckled. “Yeah, me neither.”

Behind him, Castiel let go of Dean and stretched, arching his back like a cat, his joints popping in protest as he let out a yawn turned groan before collapsing back on the bed, curling back towards Dean. “Who was on the phone?” he asked, running his fingertips over Dean’s hip.

Dean wiggled, trying to fight off the slight tickle. “Just my younger brother.”

“Hmm,” Castiel hummed, flattening his palm across Dean’s stomach. “Do you need to go?”

“Nah, he’s a big boy. I told him I’d be back tonight to kick his ass at Halo.”

Castiel laughed, rolling Dean onto his back so that he could crawl over him. “Well, good. Because I’m still not done ruining you.

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, you were being serious about this.”

Castiel deadpanned. “I always keep my promises.”

* * *

 

Two hours later and three more orgasms, Dean was whistling happily, standing under the spray of Castiel’s shower, scrubbing away the smell of sex with his soap. His bones and muscles ached in ways he hadn’t thought possible, and he wore the little wobble in his step proudly. Walk of shame? More like walk of _I just had the best sex of my life, you jealous?_ He could hear Castiel’s music blasting from his room, some hipster shit, the word _Gemini_ in the band name.

Dean came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist. Castiel was sitting on his windowsill, smoking a cigarette. His sketchpad was thrown on the floor next to him, the pencil having left a long scribble across the page.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “What’d the sketchpad do to you?” he snorted, pulling his briefs on, and then his jeans.

“The lighting wasn’t right,” Castiel replied, taking another drag of his cigarette, still not turning from the window.

Dean raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything as he shrugged his shirt on, toweling his hair dry. Still, Castiel didn’t move, only snuffed his cigarette out on the windowsill, dropping it into a cup full of ashen water. Dean fidgeted. He’d never stayed this long after a one night stand. Hell, he usually found himself crawling out the window at three am, peeling himself from the suffocating grasp of the girl. He coughed. “Uh...so. I should probably-”

“Do you want to get lunch?” Castiel asked suddenly, finally facing Dean.

“Uh…”

“Just that it’s almost lunch time. I could go for a burger, couldn’t you?”

And really, how was Dean supposed to say no to that?

That was how he found himself sitting across from Castiel in a small mom and pop restaurant, his one night stand turned lunch date.

“So, do you like KU?” Castiel asked around a mouthful of his burger.

Dean chuckled; it was that kind of thing that drove Sam absolutely _nuts_. How fitting. “It’s alright. I don’t really have the uh, time to hang out on campus when I’m not in class.”

“Why not?” Castiel asked, tilting his head to the side, his burger momentarily forgotten.

“Well, you know work in between homework and taking care of my brother...I’ve just got a lot going on.”

Castiel nodded sagely. “What’s your job?”

“I’m just a mechanic at Singer Auto. Nothin’ big.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “Hey, a job is a job. I can’t judge.”

Dean smiled at that, taking a bite of his own burger.

After lunch, they found themselves back at Castiel’s dorm, listening to quiet music. Castiel had his sketchpad back out, an unlit cigarette perched in his mouth as he struggled with his latest work. Dean laid across Castiel’s bed, playing Tetris, finally conceding to the fact that no matter how he rearranged the pillows, there would still be too many.

And then it was four o'clock and Dean scrambled from Castiel’s bed, fighting with the pillows. “I, uh, I don’t want my brother to get too worried, you know?”

Castiel smiled understandingly. “Don’t worry about it Dean,” he said, standing and stretching. He crossed the room and pressed an absolutely _filthy_ kiss to Dean’s mouth. When Dean finally opened his eyes again, he could see Castiel’s were glittering with mischief. “I’ll see you around, Winchester.”

Dean walked very, very slowly back to his house, straining to think of anything but Castiel and that kiss. Thankfully, his fifteen year old brother’s wide grin solved that for him as he walked through the door. Sam had ordered pizza and Dean moaned appreciatively, snatching the box up and going to the living room. Their PlayStation was anything but new, but they got good deals on games, and it gave Sam something to do when John skipped out.

Sam didn’t say anything about his absence in the morning, only happy that his older brother was okay and didn’t stumble in haphazardly and reeking of alcohol, like their father did. Neither of them knew where their father disappeared to on these days, neither of them were particularly keen on finding out, either. Dean made a fine caretaker, setting out lunches early in the morning for Sam, staying up with him for endless hours to help him study. To Sam Winchester, John Winchester was merely the sperm that helped create him. Beyond that, he was worthless.

The night was spent playing video games, laughing and throwing pizza crusts at each other. Dean was up early the next day, pulling into Singer Auto at seven am sharp. He tugged his work polo on over his sleep shirt, clocked in and slid under the first car. He took his lunch at one, pulling his phone from his locker, a little bit shocked to see he had a message notification. Usually if Sam needed anything on the weekends, he called the shop directly.

 **Sex God** : _So am I ambitious in hoping to see you again?_

Dean snorted. He wasn’t sure which was more amusing; the fact that Castiel had the gall to put that as his name in Dean’s phone, or the fact that he apparently wanted to see him again.

 **Dean** : _I wouldn’t call it ambitious...maybe a little bit presumptuous though._

 **Sex God** : _So you /dont/ want to see me again?_

 **Dean** : _You could not be more incorrect in that statement._

 **Sex God** : _Good. I’ll see you on Monday then, with your sinful coffee in wait._

Dean smiled, unable to contain himself. His Thursday night had consisted of mind blowing sex, a Friday that nearly topped that, along with quality time with his brother, and he’d yet to encounter any particularly cranky customers yet on the relatively sunny Saturday.

Part of him wanted to panic, to freak out and punch something. He’d had sex with a _dude_. He’d had another guy’s dick _inside of him._ That should be fucking with his head or something, right? Instead, he had a pleasant memory every time he had to shift to sit more comfortably, or pull his shirt up a little bit more to hide the hickeys that Castiel had left, a flush heating his cheek every time. He kept freezing in the middle of his tasks, randomly asking himself, _does this make me gay?!_ and then exhaling calmly when he realized that nah, not all the way, at least.

And in his convoluted, Dean Winchester way, he found that reassuring.

Sunday was spent in much the same way as Saturday, working alongside Bobby and Ash, fixing people’s old clunkers, admiring the sports cars that came through the shop. The only difference was that, when Dean came home at roughly five, the house was quiet, and filled with an off-balance kind of feeling.

John was home.

Immediately, Dean dropped his bag and keys, stalking through the house, looking for his father and making sure that Sam was in his bedroom. It wasn’t necessarily that John was _dangerous_ , Dean just wasn’t very keen on him being around Sam on his own for extended periods of time.

He found John in the den, sitting at the computer, signing checks to pay their bills. Dean leaned up against the doorjamb. “Where’d you go this time?” he asked.

John grunted. “None ‘a your business, kid.” He continued signing things, clicking away on the computer.

“Dammit Dad, you can’t keep doing this!” He punched the wall next to him.

John froze, back stiffening for a short moment before relaxing again. “I’m paying bills, Dean.”

“Dad, I’m in college. Literally the only reason that I’m not halfway across the country is because _someone_ needs to be here for Sammy, and it sure as shit ain’t going to be you!”

John sighed, rubbing his temples and dropping his head. “Dean, you are nineteen years old. I don’t expect you to understand everything I do, but I do expect you to respect me while you are under my roof.”

Dean clenched his teeth, feeling his jaw crack in protest. “I don't even think you know what that word means, " he muttered under his breath, turning to walk back to his room.

He spent the rest of the evening finishing an essay and taking an online quiz, hoping to see his phone light up with another text from Castiel, stifling his disappointment when he only received a text from a girl in his class, asking if he wanted to meet her for coffee one day before their class.

As a matter of fact, he truly didn’t want to. And if that wasn’t enough to weird him out, he found that he’d rather hang out with Castiel prior to his first class than this chick. For the first time in a long time, Dean found himself falling asleep feeling somewhat excited, rather than dreading the next day.

In the morning, he went through his usual routine, speeding through his shower and making Sam’s lunch while he took his. As he got ready to take Sam to the bus stop, Sam paused and grabbed his arm.

“Dean,” he said solemnly. “I’m almost sixteen. You don’t have to walk me to the bus stop anymore.”

Dean stopped, frowning. He hadn’t taken Sam’s age into account at all. Taking him to his bus stop was just a habit he’d gotten into when he realized his father would never make the effort. “I mean...do you want me to?” he asked, struggling to process.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Honestly? No. I know it makes you late for your morning classes. You can take the bike to school, you’ll get there way faster.” Dean’s frown deepened. “I know, I know,” Sam continued. “But Dad isn’t gonna let go of the Impala so fast. Just take the bike. I’ll call you if anything happens, I promise.”

Dean swallowed. He knew this would happen. It was inevitable. Little Sammy was growing fast; there was no way he could hold onto his brother forever, no matter how much he wanted to. He sighed, relenting. “Fine. But if I find out that _anything_ happened and you didn’t call me- your ass is grass.”

Sam sighed. “I got it Dean. Let’s go.”

They parted ways at the end of the driveway, Sam loping off towards his bus stop, Dean pedaling away towards the university.

It was only 7:30. Dean’s classes began at 8. With the bike, he was able to arrive at 7:45, compared to 7:55. He locked his bike up and bound up the stairs into the cool air of the building. For the first time in his two semesters at KU, he could enjoy his coffee for a few leisurely minutes before heading to his first class of the day.

Dean strolled up to the cafe and leaned against the counter. Castiel had his back turned, fixing a small pile of filters and flavor shots. He turned around and saw Dean leaning on the counter and jolted backwards, his elbow careening into the freshly organized filters, sending the box tumbling to the ground. Castiel stood there for a moment, stunned, before he bent down and began to fumble with them all, picking them back up and stuffing them into the box.

Dean chuckled. “Dude, calm down. Surprised I’m early, right?”

Castiel huffed, not meeting Dean’s eyes. “A little bit, yes. I was still rehearsing my flirtatious lines I’d say to you when I handed over your coffee.”

Dean’s eyebrows jumped up at that, grinning. “Flirtatious lines, eh?”

Castiel rolled his eyes, turning away from Dean to pour his coffee for him. “See I was going to say something along the lines of, ‘you like your coffee like your men...sinful’ and then I decided that was just far too cheesy and then I think I just wanted to ask if I could get you in my bed again.”

Dean jolted, almost knocking the coffee out of Castiel’s outstretched hand. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you, dude?”

Castiel smirked. “Never.”

He laughed, a took a deep swallow of his coffee, groaning at the bitter burn. “Perfect.”

Castiel smiled again and Dean opened his mouth to say something before a gruff voice from behind him made his jaw clamp shut again. “Are you two fags done flirting? I’d like my coffee.”

Dean’s jaw clenched, anger flashed through his veins. Almost imperceptibly, Castiel shook his head, instead, turning to the new customer with a sneering smile. “And what can I get for you this morning?”

Dean was halfway to his class when he realized he hadn’t paid Castiel for the coffee. As he sat down in his desk, he opened his phone to find a waiting text; _coffee’s on the house today for not beating the shit out of that douchebag_. He barked out a laugh before realizing where he was, and pulled his notebook and pens from his bag.

* * *

 

Five pm rolled around and Dean unchained his bike, pedaling quickly to the auto shop. Ash was waiting for him, wrench in hand, the hood of a Corvette already popped open and waiting. He grinned and clocked in quickly, heading over to join Ash.

Castiel had been texting Dean all day long, regardless of his ability to reply. It was always little things, mostly random, like, _I curse this country’s dependency on caffeine._ Dean had been able to reply to that one, a little quip about not having met each other if not for that and Castiel reeled in his curse immediately. When Dean came out of his longer classes, he’d checked his phone to find a few more texts in them. _I think I’ve had far too much coffee_ and _I wonder if anyone will care if I steal this chocolate syrup for my brother_ or _I’m pretty sure that my professor is a werewolf. Let’s go slay him._ Dean snorted at that.

“So who’s the guy?” Ash asked.

That startled Dean so much he dropped his phone, sending it skidding across the garage floor. He frowned, going and picking it back up. “Um, what?”

Ash smirked, bending over the car. “Benny told me you left a party a couple nights ago with some dude, made him three hundred bucks richer. Or less poor, I guess.”

Dean swallowed, choked, frantically looking anywhere but at Ash. “Uhh.”

Ash only chuckled. “Dude, don’t hurt yourself. I don’t give a shit, I just needed to know if Benny told the truth. C’mon. We’ve gotta get this engine out of here before close tonight otherwise Bobby’s gonna roast our ass.”

And just like that, normalcy returned, Ash’s playful behavior soothing Dean’s frayed nerves. Nothing had changed because he’d slept with a guy. He almost felt ridiculous for thinking it, his breath leaving him in an uneven _whoosh_ as he followed Ash to the car, leaning over to take a look at the rest of his evening.

While Dean was working, Castiel was hanging off the edge of his own bed, balancing his elbows on the floor, his legs splayed in the air. His tongue was poking from the side of his mouth and his brow was furrowed. Usually rolling a joint didn’t require that kind of concentration for him; a lick and flip of his wrist, he was set for the evening. For some reason, he couldn’t stop shaking and he would have chucked the paper across the room if he didn’t know for a fact that the weed it was holding was some of the best. He wasn’t wasteful.

He finally sighed and abandoned it, at least for the time being. His breath left him in a weary shudder, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw his alarm clock.

 _Oh_.

He hadn’t eaten since earlier that morning, right as he got in for his shift in the school cafe. He’d been running late, seeing that it’d taken ages to fall asleep on Sunday night. He had spent the better part of two hours throwing his pillows and blankets around, shuffling to find a spot that didn’t have even the faintest scent of Dean. Finally, at two am, he gave up and just cocooned himself in his blankets, building a small fortress of pillows around him. He fell asleep and dreamt of Dean writhing beneath him again, crying out his name in ecstasy.

Castiel shuffled out of his room and into the kitchen. His fridge was bare, save for a jar of mayonnaise, some bread, roast beef deli slices and a container of fudge that Gabriel had bought for him the week before. He shrugged, he’d had it worse, before. Before he’d moved out, before Gabriel came and took him away from their parents. So, deli meat and mayo sandwiches? He could deal.

He sat at the table, chewing his sandwich slowly, wondering if he wanted to call Meg for a romp in the sheets before it got too late. As he swallowed, he changed his mind, selfishly wanting to keep Dean’s scent on his sheets for as long as possible.

Dean.

He was full of secrets, Dean was. His green eyes had caught Castiel’s that Thursday night, holding a playful glint hiding the wariness and discomfort that was actually there. And Castiel shoved him against the wall, telling himself what a horrible idea it would be, and he kissed Dean anyways, kissed him until he was begging for more.

It’d been a long time since Castiel had wanted that, an even longer time since he’d allowed himself to have it. A quick fuck was a far cry from what he and Dean did. A quick fuck, Castiel shoved out of bed at five am, grumbling that they had to be gone before he woke up. Sure, it earned him a horrible reputation, but everyone he didn’t care for left him alone.

The problem was, he didn’t want Dean to leave him alone.

And as the week passed, Castiel could feel himself growing even more fixated on Dean Winchester. He lived for those mornings that he got to make Dean’s coffee, leaning over the counter and counting his freckles as he talked. Dean had become more comfortable with texting him, too, and he couldn’t get over the texts he’d get in the middle of the day or the fact that, apparently, Dean wanted to continue talking to him too. _Sammy doesn’t think Zepp is real music. I swear we aren’t related._

It was disconcerting, at first. The last person that Castiel had really fixated on had tried to get him into meth, insisting that weed and cigarettes definitely weren’t enough. When she had disappeared into rehab, he was immensely grateful.

Dean didn’t seem on that level of crazy. Oh God, he hoped not.

Castiel took one last drag on his cigarette before burying himself in his bed, shoving himself beneath the mammoth pile of pillows. He fell asleep wondering when Dean would be back in the bed with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've done it, you scoundrels. It's another WIP, by Yours Truly.  
> As always, comments make me smile, please and thank you.  
> (Also the band mentioned is called Gemini Club)  
> Another big thanks to [Emma](http://destielallaround.tumblr.com/) for the artwork!


	4. And So It Goes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut. Dean's a dick. Castiel is...himself.

As it turned out, Dean found his way back into Castiel’s bed the next Monday. They had spent the previous week texting almost constantly, something that Dean typically hated, that was normally a huge turn off for him. Instead, it only made him more intrigued. Castiel had so much more to him than the deep blue eyes and ever-present cigarette. Dean wanted to know all about it and oddly enough for him, he wasn’t ashamed of it.

Did that make him gay? He shrugged the question off each time it breached his mind, sure that it didn’t, positive in his answer.

It was ten pm on Monday night and the questions about his sexuality were galaxies away from him. He was on his hands and knees, sinking over and between pillows, while Castiel held his hips in a nearly bruising grip as he fucked him nearly violently from behind. Dean’s teeth were clattering together every time his mouth fell open in another loud moan and Castiel’s echoing moan was enough to put more fire in his groin.

“Jesus...Cas,” he grunted, rolling his hips back, trying to meet Castiel’s thrusts. “Don’t stop!”

Behind him, Castiel snickered, leaning over Dean’s back, changing the angle of his thrusts. “You take me for some kind of fool, Winchester? I’m not stopping til you scream yourself hoarse.” He pulled nearly all the way out, snapping his hips forward and wrenching a jarring cry from Dean. “Scream for me, Dean,” he growled, thrusting in again. Dean let out a wail, collapsing down to his elbows, his ass in the air, presented to Castiel to do as he wished.

It took four more particularly rough thrusts and another shout from Dean and they were both coming, their bodies freezing together as they moaned in ecstasy.

Just as Dean was about to collapse onto the small towel that Castiel had laid out beneath him (“trust me, I’d rather deal with a towel than hunt for the pillows you paint”), Castiel wrapped his arms around his waist and rolled him to the side, carefully pulling out in the process. Dean groaned quietly, but went willingly. Castiel disposed of the condom and cleaned them both up, balling up the towel and tossing it into the laundry basket.

“Are you going to fall asleep on me again?” he teased quietly. Dean swatted ineffectively at him. "At least put your underwear back on?"

Dean slid his underwear back on and pulled himself underneath Castiel's blankets. Castiel laughed at him, pulling his own pajamas on before sliding in next to Dean. It was weird, being so relaxed with him. Most of the time, after fucking, the energy around them became tense, awkward. No one knew how to handle Castiel's post-sex routine, which included a cigarette and rearranging the pillows. Instead of feeling awkward, Dean snuggled into Castiel's bed enjoying his own post-sex haze.

It was almost comfortable, Castiel thought.

They spent Tuesday morning in comfortable silence. Castiel was practically chain smoking, glaring uselessly at his sketchpad. Dean was sprawled across his bed, textbook and notebooks all around him, his pen tapping out a beat opposite to the music Castiel was playing.

“What time do you have to leave today?” he asked absentmindedly, dragging his pencil across the paper.

Dean shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter. I have class tomorrow, Sammy’s spending the night with a friend. I’m probably going to put in a few hours at the garage.”

“What about your parents?”

Dean stiffened, dropping his pencil for a moment. “They don’t care,” he finally said.

Castiel cocked his head curiously at that but Dean’s tone of voice said to drop it, and that he did. “So that means you can stay again?” he asked boldly.

Dean frowned, finally looking up to see Castiel staring expectantly at him, half-burned cigarette hanging limply from his fingers. “Wait, you’re being serious?!” he exclaimed.

Castiel shrugged, dropping the cigarette in his water cup. “Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Dean blinked. “Well, I mean...what the fuck are we doing, Cas?”

“Well, we’re...aren’t we?” He cocked his head to the side, unsure of what he’d even said.

“What, man? I’m not even…. _I’m not gay, dude_!”

Castiel snorted. “Dean, I have no doubt about that. I like you. I like spending time with you. I’d like to spend more time with you, if I can.”

Dean pressed his pen to his teeth, chewing on the cap. “So what? We’re just...fuck buddies?”

Castiel winced at the phrase, not realizing how much it’d hurt once the thought actually left his head. “Well, I mean...if that’s what you’d…” he trailed off, not having realized where this conversation would be going.

Not having realized how much he’d wanted it to be something more.

* * *

Dean spent much of Tuesday with Castiel, leaving in the mid-afternoon to go to work. He said goodbye, only after Castiel had released him from the mouth bruising kiss he’d initiated. When he got the garage, Benny and Ash were waiting for him.

Benny had a prideful smirk on his face as he threw Dean his polo. “So, uh, haven’t seen you since that party, buddy,” he laughed.

Dean narrowed his eyes and flipped his middle finger up at him. “What’s on the floor for tonight?”

“How about you dishin’ the details of your night with Novak?” Benny snorted.

“Dude,” Dean snapped, whirling on his friend. “Lay the fuck off and tell me what we need to be fixing or I’m going home for the night.”

From the front of the garage, Bobby sauntered out. “Like hell you are, boy,” he drawled. “Put your big boy pants and get to work, the lot of ya, before I fire all your asses for dwadlin’!”

Dean glared at Benny, waiting for him to speak. “Sooo,” Ash finally mumbled. “Just a few oil changes tonight. The owners are gonna be back by eight so that we have the last hour before close to clean up.” Dean nodded and turned to grab the mats they’d be laying across and the bins they’d pour the dirty oil in.

“Jack it up, Ash!” Dean called, winding a finger through the air. Ash came up behind him, the jack in tow. He didn’t ask about the tension between Dean and Benny. That was the great thing about Ash. If it didn’t involve him, he didn’t care at all. It was refreshing, and Dean was able to do his work without interruptions, allowing the guys to take care of everything efficiently.

They finished cleaning the garage shortly after eight, and Bobby shooed them out, telling them they were off for the rest of the night.

Just as Dean was about to hop on his bike, Benny’s heavy hand fell over his shoulder. “Brotha, talk to me.”

Dean pinned him with a hard glare. “There’s nothing to talk about, Benny. Drop it.”

He laughed, a deep sound that hurt Dean’s ears. “So, what? You just play for the other team now? Just like that?”

Dean clenched his teeth. “And what if I did?” he finally cried out. “Does it really matter that much? Because you know what, if it does then you can just fuck off now!” the outburst startled even him, but he didn’t back down, didn’t apologize.

Benny froze, dropping his arm. He scratched awkwardly at his neck. “Man, no it doesn’t. I dunno why you’d think it might.”

Dean licked his lips. “I don’t know man. It might have something to do with how you’ve been hounding me every free moment since that party! Since you made that dumbass bet!”

Benny shrugged, giving an embarrassed laugh. “Hey, you got me outta the shitter, man! I never thanked you for it.”

Dean stared incredulously at him. “Yeah. You’re fucking welcome.” With that, he jumped on his bike, wheeled around and pedaled away furiously.

Castiel laid in his room, his arm wrapped loosely around Ezekiel. They were lazily passing a joint back and forth, the room filled with the sweet and heady smoke. Ezekiel was tucked into Castiel’s chest, humming lightly under his breath. They hadn’t fucked, and Castiel was actually grateful for that. Ezekiel had always been a stiff lover, uptight, always wanting to know how he was performing between the sheets. It was unsettling. Being able to just get high with him was a blessing, a blissful reprieve from the ever-present chatter in Castiel’s head.

Gabriel had been calling all day, no doubt wanting to know how Castiel’s semester had been going, wanting to know if the money he’d been sending was doing any good, if Castiel was on track for graduation.

His semester had been dragging, the money was certainly helpful and Castiel was, indeed going to be graduating the next semester. He’d make his brother and sister proud, a bachelor’s degree in education with a minor in art therapy, going on to treat children with problem behavior; the dream that he’d been chasing since they ran away from home.

But Castiel didn’t want to talk to Gabriel about school, about his dream career or his goals. He wanted to tell his brother about this man who walked into his life one night at a party and gave him a smile made of sex. So instead of answering the phone and feigning interest in his academic life, he ignored Gabriel’s calls and got high with previous lovers, trying not to think about Dean for at least two minutes.

* * *

Dean ignored his phone for as long as he could during the day for the rest of the week. He knew he’d have a barrage of texts from Castiel by the end of every day, ranging from silly to downright awkward. He knew that each and every one of them would make him feel something he wasn’t quite ready to admit.

Quite frankly, the second Dean acknowledged a feeling was brewing at all, he did his best to shove it away, plowing through homework and study guides, working at the garage every free hour he had. He ignored Benny as though _that_ was what he was getting paid for, and found himself getting high in Ash’s apartment with the weirdo instead of going to Castiel’s dorm during the week.

Finally, on Thursday, Bobby stomped out of his office and stood in front of Dean. “Alright boy,” he grunted. “What’s been up your ass?”

Dean floundered. “Uh...what?”

Bobby put his hands on his hips. “You and Benny have been avoiding each other like you both got the plague and don’t think I don’t notice you and Ash gettin’ all buddy-buddy. What’s goin’ on?”

Dean kicked at the floor. “It’s really not a big deal, Bobby.”

“Damn straight it is! If it’s messin’ with the dynamic of my garage it’s a big damn deal! What is it? A girl? You sleep with his girlfriend?”

Dean wanted a laugh. He couldn’t be more off the mark. “It’s not a girl, Bobby,” he sighed.

“Then the hell’d you do?!”

Dean chewed his lip. Dare he say it? “It’s a boy,” he mumbled, tucking his chin into his chest.

“Speak up, boy!”

“It’s a boy!” Dean yelled, throwing his hands in the air. “Happy? It’s a fucking boy and now shit is twelve different levels of weird.”

Bobby stared at him, his mouth hanging open a little bit. He shook himself. “Benny!” he roared. “You get your ass over here _now_!”

Dean straightened. “Bobby!” he hissed. “What the hell are you doing?”

Benny came running over, stopping abruptly when he saw Dean. “Sup, Bobby?” he asked amiably.

Bobby turned until both the guys were in his sights. “Now you tell me the truth right now dammit, do you really care about who Dean is sleeping with?”

Dean inhaled and choked. “Uh,” Benny stammered. “No, not really.”

“Even though it’s another man?”

Benny shook his head. “I don’t give a shit man, I swear it.”

Bobby brought his palm to the back of Benny’s head, smacking him, and repeated the motion on Dean’s head as well. “Now that’s out of the way, ya’ll idjits get back to work. I don’t give a rat’s ass about your sexuality so long as it ain’t messing up your work! Now git!”

Dean scratched the back of his head, turning to walk away before Benny could say anything. Benny caught up to him though, catching his shoulder and turning him. “You really think it bothered me that bad, brotha?” he asked quietly.

Dean tried to muster the energy to glare. “You didn’t seem all that accepting last time you brought it up,” he said.

Benny shrugged abashedly. “It was kinda random, man.”

Dean only stared at him. “Whatever. I gotta go install these new brake lines on that Ford.”

Benny raised an eyebrow. “Need help?” he asked.

Dean paused, thinking for a moment. “Yeah...yeah, I could use a hand.”

Later that night, after he had showered off the smell of grease and oil, Dean held his phone in his hand, leaning off the edge of his bed. He had six texts from Castiel, the final message reading, _So that’s it?_ from hours ago. A pang of guilt shot Dean’s heart.

 _Can I come over?_ he finally replied.

He sat entirely still, staring at his phone as though it suddenly held the answers to the universe. He sat like that for five minutes before giving up and flopping back on his bed, the springs crying in protest of the sudden movement. And then, from his right, his phone vibrated insistently.

_Yes, please._

* * *

 

Per usual, Castiel was sitting on his windowsill, smoking a cigarette, his knees drawn up in front of him. He glared at his cell phone. What the hell had he said yes to Dean for? He’d been ignoring him all week, hadn’t even come to buy coffee. He was being an asshole and then just decided to waltz back like it was nothing. Castiel couldn’t help but worry that something had happened to Dean during the week, but he stomped on the feeling, cramming it further in the back of his head as he studied.

And then Dean finally texted him back.

And now he was there, sitting in between Castiel’s pillows, staring curiously at him. Neither of them had yet to say anything and Castiel couldn’t have been more grateful for that. Previous hookups and relationships were spent explaining his lack of conversation, but Dean was comfortable, never pushing for anything else, settling himself into the silence. It was different and...nice.

“I’m sorry,” Dean blurted.

Short-lived, apparently.

“For?” Castiel exhaled, watching the slight breeze from outside whisk away the tendrils of smoke.

“I’ve been a real dick. And I feel bad for that. It wasn’t fair of me.”

Castiel didn’t say anything for a moment, carefully snuffing his cigarette in the cup of water. “What happened?” he asked quietly.

Dean trained his eyes onto Castiel’s comforter, running his fingers over the smooth texture. “You uh, you asked to see me more. And then my buddy who started the bet that night...gave me shit about ‘switching teams’.”

Castiel’s mouth twitched. “And have you switched teams?”

Dean snorted. “Probably. This chick has been bugging me to get coffee with her all week and I’m _avoiding_ her. I never avoid a hot piece of ass like that!”

“Does it bother you?”

Dean flinched. He hadn’t thought about it that way. _Did_ it bother him? Sure, his friends would be giant pricks about it, gay jokes galore. But did it matter? If it truly did bother him, Dean wouldn’t have left with Castiel that night to begin with. He shrugged to himself.

"No," he whispered. "I don't think so."

Castiel smiled at that, hopping off the windowsill to sit next to Dean. He interlaced their fingers before he had a chance to talk himself out of doing so. "Does it bother you that I may...want more than this?" he asked quietly.

Dean stared wide-eyed at their hands, speechless for a moment. "Why?" he breathed, turning their hands over. "Why would you want more...with me?"

Castiel snorted derisively, squeezing Dean's hand. "You really can't figure it out?" he asked playfully.

Dean’s mouth twisted into a sort of grimace. “Well I know I’m damn hot, but that can’t be the only reason.”

The laughter drained from Castiel’s face. “No, no that can’t be it,” he murmured. He stared hard at Dean, his blue eyes deep and trusting, seeming to bore holes straight through Dean’s head and into his soul.

And hell, was it scary.

Castiel finally continued. “You’re an interesting man, Dean Winchester. You...you care so much for the people around you. I know you haven’t told me much, but I do know that you take care of your brother as though he is your child. And...and you took a bet so your friend didn’t go into debt.”

Against his will, redness seeped into Dean’s cheeks. The bet. He’d nearly forgotten about it entirely. He’d been avoiding Chuck and Gordon, taking the long route around campus to reach his classes. His shift at the garage on Tuesday seemed to have eased things between he and Benny, at least for the time being.

He swallowed, his throat clicking awkwardly. “Um,” he mumbled. “Uh, what...more do you want with me?”

“We should go steady.”

He said it so bluntly, so _Castiel_ -like, that Dean couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. “You’re such a weirdo, you know that?” he finally said. Castiel was frowning, his brow furrowed uncomfortably. On some sort of instinct that he wasn’t aware of, Dean reached up and soothed the creases out of Castiel’s brow. “You should say like, ‘go out’, or ‘date’...anything but going steady. We’re not in the Sims.”

Castiel frowned again and Dean gave up on soothing away the crease. “Will you…go out with me?” the words felt foreign on his tongue.

Dean smiled. “Why the hell not?”

* * *

 

Dean had dated girls before, plenty of girls. He’d brought them to movies, bought flowers when he inevitably forgot their anniversary. He also broke up with them, told them that he just wasn’t built for relationships. Each time, he went back home and brought Sam with him to the drive-in, making up for lost time, listening to the stories his brother told him. Sam never asked Dean about his (ex)girlfriends, never wanted to know. He was content having his big brother available while their father wasn’t.

John was home for longer periods of time now, as well. The semester continued and Dean only lost track of his father’s appearance over nights. Sure, hearing him coming staggering back into the house at 4am on a day that he had is 8am class was a little bit disruptive, but it was certainly better than laying awake for nights on end wondering if he was even alive.

As usual though, John was there, yet not present. Sam had tried countless times to tell his father about school, the crush on the girl that he had. Over and over again, John brushed his youngest son, demanding to be left alone. Dean didn’t even bother trying to interact with him beyond a grunt as he left for school with Sam every morning.

He spent almost every night before his morning classes with Castiel. They sat together in his dorm room, Dean critiquing Castiel’s art class work as Castiel chewed on his pencil; an effort to quit smoking cigarettes. They went to bed early, making out lazily while falling asleep slowly. Castiel always woke before Dean, showering quickly to get ready for his shift at the cafe. He’d kiss Dean awake, with a promise to have coffee for him when he went to class. Dean would shift slowly, whining in protest as Castiel woke him to leave. It was a pleasant routine that Dean fell into almost embarrassingly quickly.

His relationship with Castiel was kept under wraps for quite a few weeks until one day, Sam cornered him as Dean was leaving one evening.

“Where are you going?” he demanded, his hands on his hips.

Dean flinched. “What’s it to you, short stuff?”

Sam glared. “You’ve been leaving almost every night before your classes. Where are you _going_?”

“Castiel’s, alright!”

Sam lurched back. “Huh? Who the heck is...Cast-eel?”

Dean rolled his eyes, leaning back on the doorframe. “He’s a friend that I met at school.”

Sam stepped back again? “ _He?! Friend?!_ ” he squeaked. “Yeah, right.”

Dean shoved his brother’s shoulder. “It’s none of your business, bitch.”

“The hell it isn’t, you jerk! I want to meet him.”

At that, Dean darted through the door. “Maybe later!”

He escaped quickly, riding his bike through the dark streets to get to Castiel’s dorm. The feeling in his gut was one he wasn’t familiar with, entirely new and foreign to him. It was excitement, a kind he’d never experienced. Sure, he loved being with girls, going to see them, excited for their dates. When it came down to it though, he was more excited for the prospect of sex, of getting their shirts off. He was excited to see Castiel...but more for his company, the sex was merely a bonus.

New, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, finally on spring break. I'll try to get another chapter up before the 23rd because I have plans for this plot, plans for Dean and Cas and Sam and oh god I really hope you guys don't hate me!!!


	5. A For Effort, F for Exectution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uh. Warnings for this chapter:  
> Lots of angst here guys, sorry about that.   
> Some drug usage (weed/ecstasy) and mentions of other drugs and alcohol as coping.

Midterms were going to kick Dean’s ass. In between shifts at the garage, time with Sammy, and time with Castiel, he had his head buried in his textbooks, his laptop in hand, hastily writing out another essay, finishing more homework. It was exhausting in every possible way. Sam was coasting easily through his sophomore (the same year that Dean had struggled with endlessly) and Castiel was making his art work into the early hours of the morning, going through the family-sized bags of Sour Patch Kids to make up for his old vice. He wasn’t sure if he was even saving any money by switching from cigarettes to candy with the several trips he made to Costco.

Dean had been doing a good job encouraging Castiel not to buy cigarettes. They had built some kind of system to keep him clean. If he got the craving, he’d simply tell Dean and they would make out for an hour, or exchange blowjobs or fuck until Castiel could no longer see straight, let alone remember what brand he preferred. It worked well, for the most part.

It only became troublesome when they would wake up post-sex and Dean would remember homework he hadn’t finished, or another test he hadn’t gotten around to studying for. He’d run around Castiel’s dorm naked, gathering his books and notes, and then lay back down, the pillows shoved to the floor. Castiel would lean over Dean’s shoulder, whispering the questions in Dean’s ear, covering his eyes so that he couldn’t read the answer he could recite from heart.

Dean thought he would cry when he looked at his calendar and realized he had only one midterm left before his spring break could officially start. His first spring break in college was finally here and dammit for being so anticlimactic. When he began school in the fall, he and Sam had sat in the living room together, laying out plans for each of their school vacations. What their plans hadn’t included though, were a girlfriend--or a boyfriend.

Shit.

Delegating time had never been one of Dean’s strong suits, so he sent a quick text to Castiel, asking what his spring break plans were before heading to his last midterm. It took him a nerve-wracking hour to complete the exam and when he was done, he all but sprinted from the classroom, sending a quick thanks to whatever Gods out there that he wasn’t the last one finished. His phone had two texts on it from Sam, encouraging him through his last midterms. There was also a text from Ash, pleading that he cover his evening shift for him, promising to pay Dean with the best weed he had.

With that, Dean sealed his extra shift at the garage, sent another text to Castiel and began his spring break with a shift at work and the promise of a good high.

“How’d your midterms go, kid?” Bobby asked when Dean clocked in.

Dean grinned at him. “Think I aced em, Bobby!” he said.

Bobby thumped him on his back. “‘Atta boy! Now git to work. We got a busy night ahead of us with just you ‘n Benny!”

Lined up on the floor for the evening were two oil changes, a brake change and three more tire alignments. Dean and Benny took care of each job, tossing playful banter back and forth in the garage, ACDC blaring loudly from the radio in the back. The awkwardness from earlier in the semester had dissipated, and it seemed that their friendship was finally back on track. By the time 9 pm rolled around, both men were covered in their fair shares of brake oil and grease, laughing as Bobby booted them from the garage, demanding they not come back the next day smelling as gross as they did.

“What are your plans this week?” Benny asked.

Dean shrugged, straddling his bike. “Not sure, to be honest. Sam wants to see a new movie with me. I’ll probably hang out with Castiel a lot, though, seeing that Sam’s break isn’t for another two weeks.”

Benny waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Oh, la-la! How are things with that dude, anyways?”

Dean shook his head, laughing under his breath and looking away from his friend. “Things with Cas are...cool. I uh, I like to spend time with him. It’s...nice.” He stopped short suddenly, unsure of what else to say.

Benny blinked. “I think that’s the first time you’ve never given me a blow by blow of getting laid, Winchester. You must really like the guy!”

Dean punched his friend in the shoulder, laughing. “Shut it, Lafitte! I can still kick your ass!”

“In your dreams!” Benny called after him as Dean pedaled away, back to Castiel’s dorm. The night air was cool on his face, allowing him a few moments of peace after such a busy day. Benny’s words rattled around in his head as he rode. It was true of course, every time Dean got into bed with woman after woman, he’d share the conquests with Benny or Sam, with as much detail as he could until he was getting yelled at to shut up. But since he’d been with Castiel, that habit had all but ceased. It wasn’t necessarily a secret anymore, their relationship, but Dean felt more uncomfortable at the thought of sharing their time together than he ever had with anyone else before. It was as if he was determined to keep him to himself.

Castiel was different, in more ways than the fact that he was a man. He was quiet most of the time, intently focused on whatever artwork he was working on. Sometimes he’d ask Dean about his life, about his family, never apologizing when Dean confided in him about the passing of he and Sam’s mother, or the fact that their dad was hardly ever home. It was refreshing to talk about his past without getting the pitying looks. He’d listen intently, sometimes wrapping his arms around Dean’s middle, pressing his face to Dean’s neck in a silent show of support.

It was new, and it was scary but all of the fear that came with disappeared the moment Castiel got them both naked. The sex very quickly got addicting. Castiel, normally so quiet and put together, fell apart between the sheets. His moans would vibrate through Dean’s chest, his hips thrusting so hard that Dean would have bruises on the insides of his thighs for days later.

And as much as Dean tried not to admit it, he was enjoying his time with Castiel even beyond the mind blowing sex.

He knocked on Castiel’s door before swinging it open and walking in. His nose was immediately assaulted by the sweet scent of marijuana. His eyes watered for a moment before he adjusted to the thickness of the smoke. Part of him was pissed that Castiel had disabled his smoke alarm, but the other part was mostly relieved, seeing that he would have been in deep shit by now.

Castiel was sprawled out in his bed, snoring lightly, his face obscured by a pillow. “Cas,” Dean whispered. “Hey,” he shook Castiel’s shoulder, watching him roll and blink blearily up at him. His eyes were rimmed red, eyelids puffy and swollen; so he was still high. “I’m going to take a shower, had a long day at work. We can go catch a movie or something tonight, if you want. Sam wants to see that new horror flick.”

“Mgnphh.”

Dean laughed. “Uh-huh. Don’t worry, I’ll get dressed out here just for your viewing pleasure. Let me at least get the grease from underneath my nails first.” He turned to walk towards the bathroom, still smiling a little bit.

Suddenly, Castiel lurched up, remembering something and it nauseated him. “Dean, wait!” he cried, teetering forward off of the bed, the room spinning, trying to stop Dean.

Dean was just at the bathroom, his hand on the doorknob. The small smile only grew on his face as he opened the door. “Cas, what--” he stopped dead, forgetting what he was even going to say.

Standing there, covered only by a small towel was Becky Johnson, her blue eyes wide and innocent, blonde hair hanging around her head in dripping strands. Dean blinked, eyes narrowing in on the freshly blooming hickies over her collarbone, in the crook of her neck. His mouth opened and closed for a moment as his brain tried to catch up with the situation before he whirled, slamming the door shut. Castiel was sitting upright in his bed, struggling to focus on Dean.

“What the _fuck_.”

“Dean, it isn’t…”

“I swear to _God_ , Cas, if you tell me it isn’t what it looks like I will punch your lights out right now.”

Castiel swallowed, shifting so that he was standing, if not leaning on the bed for a little bit of extra support. “Fine. It’s what it looks like.”

Dean swiped an angry hand through his hair, pacing around for a moment. “What...what the _fuck_ were you _thinking_?”

Castiel guiltily stared at the floor. “I wasn’t,” he mumbled. “We were both drunk and then we got high and then…”

“So you thought it was okay to _cheat on me_?!”

Castiel lurched forward, his eyes full of fear. “No, Dean! I didn’t want-”

“You know what, fuck this! Fuck _you_! I don’t know what the _fuck_ your problem is Cas, or what the hell you’ve been through, ‘cause I know you’ve been through some shit. Takes one to know one, right?” Dean’s voice cracked and he cursed himself when he felt his eyes stinging. “I get that...this is new for you. Hell, it’s new for me too! but...man, I’d never stoop so low.”

“Dean, wait.” Castiel jumped from the bed, his arm outstretched.

Dean flinched. “Don’t fucking touch me. You can fuck whoever you want now, because I’m out.”

* * *

 

Sam didn’t know what time that it was. He knew that Dean had promised to stop by with Castiel so that Sam could meet him, and maybe they could all catch a movie together and celebrate Dean’s survival of mid-terms. He was excited to tell his brother about the girl he’d met in fencing, the girl who kicked his ass and proceeded to pull her helmet off, releasing a wave of golden locks and revealing a smirk that Sam knew he’d dream about for weeks.

Sam shifted and caught eye of his alarm clock. It was two am. Dean wouldn’t be coming home any time soon.

* * *

Dean woke up with the sun glaring into his eyes, his mouth seemingly glued shut, pasty and thick. He lurched up and immediately hit his head on the roof of the car, only intensifying the nausea he was experiencing.

Wait….car?

Dean wrenched the door open, throwing himself from the back seat and onto the pavement with just enough time for the contents of his stomach to come splashing out, horrifying retching sounds coming from his throat until he was dry heaving, lurching uncomfortably. He sat on his hands and knees, gasping for breath, stomach roiling at the acidic taste left in his mouth.

In those few moments, he suddenly regained his bearings, the night coming flying back to him like a brick to the head; walking in on Castiel and Becky, stealing his dad’s car, using his fake ID to buy two bottles of bourbon, parking out by the cliffs to drink them like a dying man getting his last wish.

“Fuck,” Dean whined, clutching at his stomach. He sat there for another moment or two, catching his breath, trying to calm his stomach enough to drive home.

It was a tedious ride, but he couldn’t have been more relieved when he was able to slump through the door, throwing the car keys back on the table. From the living room, John pushed himself up from the couch, walking in front of Dean and stopping him in his tracks.

“What the hell Dean?” he asked quietly, his hands in the air.

“Whatever,” Dean mumbled. “Your precious car survived the night. I’m going to bed. Don’t bother me.” He pushed past his father and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Sam’s door cracked open and he poked his head out into the hall. “Dad?” he asked timidly.

John waved a tired hand at his youngest. “Go back to bed Sammy.”

Dean woke later that day, still with a throbbing headache that was taking its sweet time to recede. On his side table was a glass of ice water and 4 tablets of ibuprofen. Next to that was a note from Sam;  _went to Kevin’s for the day. Please stay home tonight_. His heart clenched at the display of concern from his little brother. Sam always cared so much, too much, even when he had no idea what on Earth was going on.

Dean drank the water and swallowed the tablets, scrubbing a hand over his face as he sat up. It was three in the afternoon. He strained his ears, hearing the unsettling silence in the house. Shame and guilt burned low in his stomach. He’d promised to introduce Sam and Castiel the night before, finally a little bit willing to introduce Castiel to the rest of his life.

What a mistake that would have been. He snorted to himself and went to shower the stench of sweat and alcohol off of his skin. When he stepped out into the thick humid air of the bathroom to cross the hall into his bedroom, he could hear Sam tinkering about in his own room.

Part of him wanted to vomit at the the thought of facing his younger brother after last night. The other part just wanted to get it over with. Dean sighed and tugged sweatpants on over his still damp legs and walked over to Sam’s room. Just as he raised his fist to knock, Sam called out, “you can come in.”

Dean huffed out a laugh and pushed the door open. “You are one creepy kid, know that?”

Sam turned away from his computer and shot Dean a smile. “You walk like Bigfoot, man.” Dean laughed at that and the room fell silent suddenly, like a curtain dropping over them. “What happened dude?” Sam’s voice was quiet.

Dean bit the inside of his cheek, twisting his fingers together, looking anywhere but Sam. “He cheated on me,” he blurted.

Sam flinched, his hands tightening on the armrests of his chair. “Fuck,” he breathed. “What a prick.”

Dean laughed humorlessly. “Tell me about it. Thing is, I _knew_ his fucking reputation. Not sure why I thought I was special.” Silence fell over the room again. “Damn,” he snorted. “I sound like such a girl. Wanna go get some burgers? I’m fucking hungover and I miss my little brother.”

Sam laughed a little, shaking his head. “Yeah. Lemme grab my jacket.”

* * *

 

Castiel was baked like a cake. Or a cookie. Something along those lines, he figured. The walls looked fuzzy and he experimentally ran his hand over it, trying to figure out if they were actually fuzzy or if Crowley had laced his bowl with ecstasy. He whimpered as his fingers touched the cool paint, disappointed that it wasn’t as soft and fuzzy as it looked. Ecstasy it was then. At least it wasn’t cocaine, he thought blearily, still absentmindedly petting the wall. The last time that Crowley had pulled that trick, Castiel had beat him to a pulp and found a new dealer for two months.

Which, in retrospect was an awful decision because he paid more for a gram during those two months than he ever did for Crowley.

But that was besides the point.

“How you doing over there, angel?” Crowley’s snarky voice cut through the haze in Castiel’s mind.

“Don’t call me that,” he mumbled. “Gi’ me another joint.”

Crowley snorted. “I do not have nearly enough food for when that all hits you at once.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes-at least, it felt like he did. “You’re so full’a shit. You have enough food here to feed an army of horses.”

Crowley blinked at him and then burst into laughter. Castiel froze for a moment and then his words caught up to him. Within seconds he was rolling on the floor with Crowley, tears rolling down his cheeks.

He wasn’t sure how long they laughed, but next thing he was aware of, Crowley was hovering over him, legs on either side of Castiel’s thighs. He could hardly acknowledge the tensing discomfort within him before he spat out, “Get off’a me!”

Crowley rolled away, laughing good-naturedly. “C’mon Cas, don’t you wanna see if it’s just as good as the last time?”

The last time. The _only_ time. They were both high (he was beginning to sense a trend here) and while the sex was decent, Crowley’s gloating was nowhere near worth it. Castiel rebuffed all of his future advances until one day he finally looked him in the eye and said, “I’m not having sex with you again. Please stop.”

Surprisingly, he actually did. Of course, the teasing offers didn’t, but he never seriously pushed Castiel for more again.

“What’s your poison, love?” Crowley asked, pushing himself off of the floor and padding into the kitchen.

Castiel thought hard, getting only a little distracted by the insistent rub of jeans on his legs and the sudden, overwhelming desire to rip them off of himself. _Ecstasy_! he thought loudly to himself. “Peanut butter and jelly,” he announced. “And please, dear God tell me you have Dr. Pepper. And those maple bacon chips.”

“For you dear, anything.”

It’d been three days since Dean had caught he and Becky together. Castiel had dragged his sad ass to work the next morning, some part of him hopeful to see Dean again. Eight am rolled lazily by, and then next thing he knew, he was getting ushered off to his classes. No Dean. His cell phone remained painfully silent. He had six unsent text messages to Dean. All of them were variations of begging, apologies and I miss you’s. They sat in his draft folder like dirty secrets.

Yesterday, Gabriel had called while Castiel was laying in his room, wallowing and attempting to finish his piece for the senior showcase. He practically made himself sick, pretending to be all cheery for Gabriel, gushing about his classes and the job interviews he had lined up. Gabriel was excited for him, chattering right along with him, and then telling him about the new girl in his life. He feigned interest, or at the very least, tried to. When his brother hung up, Castiel made the decision that he needed to get really really high and just pretend that Dean didn’t exist.

That plan had worked out just fine until Castiel had realized that Crowley had laced his bowl with ecstasy and his mind was just replaying images of he and Dean fucking over and over again and then the face that Dean had made just before he walked out of Castiel’s dorm for the last time.

God, he felt pathetic.

He stared at the plate of food that Crowley had made for him, his appetite suddenly dwindling. What was he even doing here? It was the same damn thing that had fucked everything up to begin with.

“You’re about to leave, aren’t you?” Crowley asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Castiel bit his lip. “Can you...bag some of this for me? I don’t have much food in my dorm.”

Crowley nodded in understanding and went to work in the kitchen as Castiel staggered about, searching for his hoodie and sneakers. How could he have fucked up so badly? And then continued doing so, without even a second thought? Was he that much of a monster?

Crowley handed Castiel a grocery bag nearly tearing from the weight of the food he had put into it. “Text me when you get to your dorm,” he said. “I’d feel bloody awful if you didn’t make it back.” Oddly enough, that was the truth.

Castiel would have forgotten to text Crowley if not for the fact that his bag of goodies were what would quell his raging hunger. As he was about to tear into his sandwich, he suddenly remembered, sent a quick text and dug in, the munchies finally getting the best of him.

March bled into April, with still no word or interaction from Dean. Castiel fought his cravings and urges, telling Crowley to never sell to him again, demanding that Meg and Ezekiel just stay the hell away. Almost overnight, his savings account grew nearly exponentially. The money he wasn’t spending on cigarettes and weed fell right into his account, barely ever touched. He was getting better and it was a glorious feeling.

And then one day, that all came crashing over him. It was nine-thirty on a Monday morning and Castiel was bright-eyed and wide awake; yet another result of dropping all of his extracurriculars. He was fidgeting around the cafe area, wiping the already clean counters, reorganizing coffee flavors when he heard him.

Dean’s laugh could carry, he knew that much. He whipped around, his heart nearly stopping as Dean rounded the corner, a blonde in tow. She was laughing hysterically at something Dean had just said and Castiel’s heart clenched.

He situated himself behind the counter. “What can I get for you today?” he asked, proud when his voice didn’t shake at all.

Dean eyes the girl at his side. “Go ahead,” he prompted.

She sneered up at him before replying, “Seriously just make me the sugariest, sweetest latte you possibly can, dollface.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow and Dean stepped away from her. “You disgust me,” he deadpanned. She stuck her tongue out at him and Castiel turned away, starting in on her latte. Behind him, he could hear Dean and the woman bantering back and forth and he wondered if the laws of physics would allow him to melt through the floor.

He turned back to the corner, Dean’s coffee and the woman’s latte in hand. She stared at the drinks before turning to Dean. “Shit, you weren’t kidding, you uncreative shmuck.”

Dean shoved her. “Shut the fuck up, I know what I like.”

Castiel cleared his throat and told them the price.

Dean raised a curious eyebrow. “Uh…”

The words fell from his mouth before he’d thought twice about saying them. “Yours is on the house,” he explained with a small, shy smile.

The staring contest was an accident, really. Dean had just gotten sucked in, even though he swore to himself that it wouldn’t happen, that they could run into each other and it still be casual, comfortable. Castiel, intense as ever, just refused to look away. He wished that he could convey everything he’d been wanting to say in the past month with that one look, wished that it would fly from his head straight into Dean’s.

The blonde cleared her throat and Dean’s hand snapped forward suddenly, nearly dropping the money for her latte. Castiel fumbled with the change and then Dean and the girl were walking away.

Just before they rounded the corner, Castiel heard, “I need to go shower. That was some heavy duty gay eye-fucking there, buddy.”

“Shut the fuck up, Joanna.”

* * *

 

 **Castiel** : _I miss you._

One minute went by, then two, then three. His heart was crawling up his throat.

 **Dean** : _I know._

He took a deep breath, his thumbs flying over the screen.

 **Castiel** : _Didn’t know you had a thing for blondes_. And _shit_ , could he sound anymore like a jealous asshole?!

 **Dean:** _Dude she would dropkick me into another century if I ever looked at her that way._

The second message caught him off guard.

 **Dean** : _Besides, I still have a thing for cheating asshole art students._

He wanted to throw his phone across the room, wanted to stomp on it, run over it until the screen shattered. But he couldn’t. His eyes remained glued on that last message, reading the words over and over again until the screen flickered and darkened.

_Cheating asshole._


	6. The Bandaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for angst and abuse/abusive situations.  
> Also like 3 pages of smut

Finals week would be Dean’s death, he decided. He’d barely had a spare moment of free time for the past week and a half. He woke up at seven, took a quick shower, shoved a PopTart in his mouth, grabbed his backpack, and hopped onto his bike. He made it to the campus with ten minutes to spare, which he spent leaning over the counter in the cafe, chatting with Castiel. It almost felt like the beginning of the semester, before everything got screwed up.

Slowly, Castiel began to tell Dean more about himself in the ten minute window before Dean rushed off to class. He told Dean about running away from home with his brother and sister because their parents were very quickly moving into cult-mindset about religion. Gabriel was flamboyantly gay and Anna was sexually active at fourteen and had their parents known either of those facts, they’d have been sent to a correctional facility. He told him about the first cigarette he smoked, how he’d vomited only seconds after the first drag.

Slowly, as finals moved closer and closer, Dean learned more about Castiel. He also developed more of a tolerance to his single cups of coffee, finding himself visiting Castiel in the cafe again directly after his eight am.

One day, he paused in the middle of his sentence, cocking his head just slightly. Castiel blinked at him. “What? What is it?’

Dean inhaled. “You look...different. Brighter? It’s something.” He ducked his head. “Nevermind, it’s nothing.” The rest of his words were stuttered out awkwardly.

Castiel’s hand jumped out almost against his will, catching Dean’s. “No, you’re right. I, um. I quit smoking.”

Dean was staring at Castiel’s hand, resting over his, fixated on it. “No,” he murmured. “You’d quit already when we were...when we…”

“I quit everything, Dean.”

Dean blinked again, looking back up to see Castiel’s clear blue eyes, staring at him, unflinching, ever steady. “You...you, wow. Okay. _Everything_. That’s...wow. That’s great, Cas.” The silence after he finished speaking was stifling, neither of them making any move to separate their hands. Dean cleared his throat suddenly, jerking away, blinking rapidly. “Uh, ah. I’ve got. I need. Class. I’ve gotta...yeah.”

Castiel leaned away, slowly, coolly, a smile growing on his face, the same smile he had given Dean at that party so long ago. “I’ll talk to you later, Dean,” he said, turning back to the coffee machine.

In some convoluted way, Castiel felt lighter after the interaction, the confession. While he had wanted to pull Dean directly over the countertop and into his arms, he resisted, settling instead, for the staring contest they had initiated, allowing himself to commit to memory the number of freckles smattered over Dean’s nose.

Dean arrived at his second class for the day ten minutes early, which was a record for the past couple of weeks, considering he’d been sitting and talked with Castiel until he had five minutes to get all the way across campus. The person who shared the table with him raised a curious eyebrow but didn’t say anything, sliding into their seat and turning away to talk to someone else.

Dean buried his face between his hands. Why did Castiel have to tell him that? Why did it have to matter so much? He scrubbed at his chin, letting his stubble scratch coarsely over his palms.

It mattered because that was the only ‘why’ Dean had gotten about Castiel cheating on him. It mattered because that was the only thing at fault for him getting blackout drunk on the eve of his first college Spring Break, and then spending the entirety of it moping. It mattered because-

At that moment, Dean’s phone buzzed and their professor walked in. He surreptitiously tapped the screen, opening the new message; _some kid just asked if I could put vodka in his latte. I apologized and made sure he knew where the nearest Starbucks is_. Dean snorted, slipping his phone into his pocket, which drew a glare from the person next to him.

His class dragged; the professor was droning on about carburetors and pressure valves, all things that Dean already understood, in the rawest of senses and why did it matter if he didn’t know all of the math or reasoning behind it? It gave him an excuse not to pay attention, allowing him to think about Castiel instead, the look in his eyes while they were talking, the light twinkle that lit up those depths of blue when he spoke of his siblings, the darty, scared look when he recalled his parents.

It was truly fascinating, learning more and more about Castiel, this enigma of a soul he’d hardly known just a while ago. It was fascinating and distressing, because Dean was sure that he should still be pissed off about the whole Becky fiasco. Pissed off and hurting. Yet, he wasn’t. It still stung, just slightly if he allowed his thoughts to linger on the event, the look of realization on Castiel’s face as Dean headed to the bathroom.

And so he didn’t linger on it. He shook his head and recalled the half smirk, half smile that Castiel had given him as he’d walked away from the cafe. That same quirking of his lips that he’d seen so long ago at that party, just before he’d found himself pinned between the wall and the hard line of Castiel’s body.

It was that visual that gave the Dean the worst mid-class boner he’d ever had and he shifted uncomfortably in his sleep, pulling his jacket over his shoulders and into his lap. From there, he had no idea what was happening for the rest of the hour. He took miniscule notes, a lot of them scratched out when he forgot what he was even writing.

As he was packing his bag up his phone buzzed again, except this time it was from Jo. _You’re talking to hot-coffee-God again, right?_

He frowned. How nosy could one girl be? _Get your nose out of my love life, dammit._

 **Joanna** : _So you admit it!_

Dean scowled, turning his screen off and leaving class. He thought about going to say bye to Castiel and forced himself to continue off the campus, trying not to be desperate, hopping on his bike and pedaling madly to the garage before he could change his mind.

Benny could feel Dean’s unease when he clocked in, and said nothing, opting instead to hand Dean the list of jobs for the afternoon. Bobby noticed as well and began to walk over to him and Benny grabbed his arm, shaking his head. “Leave it be, boss. I’m in no mood to dodge wrenches today.”

Bobby bit his cheek, narrowing his eyes. He watched Dean across the garage, who was digging through the toolbox, one hand tugging absently at his hair. It was his trademark sign for stressed, almost a signal to all who were around him to stay away, do not engage.

Working on cars came naturally to Dean, secondary to maybe breathing. He moved through engine parts seamlessly, pulling, pushing, tinkering. It was his zen garden, the insides of cars. No matter how many cut knuckles, bruised wrists and pinched fingers, he never lost his cool while working in the car.

The zen of his shift that day lasted for only about two hours. The office phone rang and Bobby answered it the same way that he always did. “Singer Auto and Repair, how can I help you?”

“B-Bobby? I need Dean,” Sniffle, cough. “Can, can Dean come home please?” Sob. “I-I,”

Bobby’s back straightened so fast he felt each vertabrae pop in protest. “Sam? Son, calm down. Talk to me, what happened?”

“I just. Can Dean come home _please_?” his voice rose, nearing hysteria.

“We’ll be there in five minutes son,” Bobby assured, hanging up.

Bobby stepped heavily into the garage, keys to his truck already in his hand. “Winchester!” he bellowed. Across the room, Dean jolted, nearly cracking his skull on the hood of the car. He whirled angrily, until he saw Bobby’s face. “Let’s go. Your brother called me.”

Terror filled Dean as they walked to Bobby’s truck. “Bobby, what happened? What did he say? Is he okay?”

Bobby didn’t answer, only gunned it as they whipped down the road towards the Winchester residence. “Fuck!” Dean cried. “Bobby, say something, what the hell happened?”

He slammed on the brakes in front of the house and grasped Dean’s wrist tightly. “He didn’t sound okay. You need to keep your head and be there for your brother, got it? You can lose your shit later. But not in front of him. He needs you right now.”

Dean glared at him, pulling away and sprinting to the door, throwing it open. The sight he found almost made him fall to his knees, forgetting that Bobby was even present at all. The dining room table was overturned, cracked through the middle. Utensils littered the floor, as well as an array of their DVD’s, video games. Dean stepped into the living room and found Sam’s narrow shoulders hunched over, curled into himself on the couch. He could hear small whimpers and sniffles. His heartbeat was roaring in his ears, deafening and loud.

He walked around the side of the couch, getting to his knees in front of his younger brother. “Sam? Sammy? Talk to me buddy, I’m here now,” his voice was gentle, quiet, hoping to calm Sam enough to talk.

Sam hiccuped and slowly pulled his head from the cradle of his arms. Dean choked, bile rising in his throat. Sam’s left eye was framed black and blue, lines of red criss-crossing the bruise; dried blood. He couldn’t breathe as he continued appraising his little brother’s injuries. He had a bruise on his neck that disappeared under his collar. His shirt was torn in the middle, hanging uselessly at his side and Dean took in more dried blood.

He hadn’t realized that he was holding his breath until he looked at the floor next to the couch and took in the broken glass with stains of blood. He turned his head slowly, staring at Sam’s feet, which were tucked underneath him, blood caking on the couch around him. His heart clenched.

“Sammy. What happened, buddy? Tell me what happened?” He slid onto the couch next to his brother, wrapping his arms around his slim body, pulling him closer.

It took that single touch and Sam crumpled, falling into Dean’s embrace and sobbing. Dean took a long, steadying breath, running a gentle hand over Sam’s back, gently pressing his fingers in, feeling for any broken ribs. Sam pressed closer, hissing quietly when his face pressed into Dean’s chest, but he didn’t pull away. Dean cradled his brother, despite Sam’s long, lanky limbs, and held him close, careful not to put pressure on his wounds.

“Dad...came home,” he hiccuped. “I had. Poured out. All the alcohol.” Dean stiffened. He could have told Sam how bad of an idea that’d be, seeing that he’d tried in once when he was twelve and John had punched out Dean’s final baby tooth. “He...he,” Sam choked on his words. Dean didn’t need the rest of the explanation. He knew, he could see evidence of what John had done everywhere.

“Shh, I know what happened Sam. I’m here now,” Dean murmured, running a hand through Sam’s long brown hair. _Kid needs a hair cut_ , he thought tiredly. He’d been so wrapped up in school, he hadn’t had a chance to take them out to the barber shop.

He felt Sam’s body relax more and more in his arms and he realized that Sam was probably asleep. He shook him a tiny bit, just enough to feel his muscle jolt awake again. “Can’t fall asleep on me kid. We gotta get you cleaned up.” Sam whimpered, not pulling his face from Dean’s chest. He clenched his teeth, wanting nothing more than to find his father and beat him to an inch of his life. “C’mon. Go wait for me in the bathroom, please?”

Sam gingerly pulled himself off of Dean and ambled off towards the bathroom, his shoulders hunched, head hung.

Dean wanted to kill John.

He followed Sam into the bathroom, only after filling a small cup with orange juice, desperate to get some electrolytes into his little brother, fill him with life again. It was his duty as the older brother, the one who saw to making sure Sam got taken care of when their father decided that it was far too much effort to even take care of himself.

* * *

 

He’d put Sam to bed an hour ago, after taking photos of his injuries and cleaning them up with peroxide and gentle hands. He’d cleaned up the kitchen and living room, sweeping up the broken glass and scrubbing away the blood stains. He had called John eight times, getting his voicemail every time. Bobby finally pried the phone from his  hands and made him eat some pasta.

“If I go home, will you be okay?” he asked, resting a hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean only nodded, taking another flavorless bit of his food. “Don’t call John again tonight. We’ll talk to the police tomorrow.” Dean nodded again and then he was alone.

He wandered into the living room and made to sit down on the couch when he jerked suddenly, remembering Sam’s bloodstains on the upholstery. Instead, he curled into the armchair, tucking his knees into his chest.

Before he was aware of what he was doing, he had dialed Castiel’s number, listening to the ringing, struggling to keep breathing.

“Dean?”

Suddenly he was hyperventilating. “Cas, God, I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

“Dean what happened?” Castiel’s voice was alert and firm.

“Can you come over?” he whispered, his voice small, ashamed.

“Give me your address. Don’t hang up.” It was a demand and a promise, rolled into two reassuring sentences.

Dean rattled off his street address and fell silent. Castiel filled the air with words, talking incessantly for the ten minute drive. He told Dean about his hobbies, how he’d gotten into art, and art therapy. Dean stayed silent, soaking up all Castiel was giving him, absorbing it gratefully, allowing the words to ground him until Castiel said, “Dean? I need you to unlock your front door.”

He stiffly rose from his seat and pulled the door open. Abruptly, his arms were full of Castiel, his hands roaming over Dean, grasping his face, turning him around. It dawned on Dean suddenly that maybe Castiel had been worried.

He allowed himself to be guided to the kitchen, seated at the now upright table. Castiel clanked around the kitchen, opening a closing cabinets until he found a coffee mug. Seemingly moments later, said mug was placed in front of Dean, full of steaming liquid.

He wrinkled his nose, leaning away. “Cas, this stuff smells like foot.”

Castiel stiffened. “You need the antioxidants. You’re in shock.”

“Anti-huh?!”

“Drink,” Castiel commanded flatly. “Drink, and tell me what happened.”

Maybe it was something about the frantic look in Castiel’s eyes or the protective stance he sat in-curled towards Dean, one leg turned outwards towards the door,as if ready to leap at any intruder-but Dean found himself slowly drinking the odd tasting liquid and recounting his evening.

He wasn’t aware of how long he’d talked and how long he’d been silent after he’d finished until Castiel wrapped his hands around one of Dean’s. The weight of the silence fell like a blanket over him suddenly. “What do you need?” Castiel’s voice was gentle, yet still firm, allowing no room for doubts or second-guessing.

Dean stared down into the coffee mug at the cool liquid, feeling shy and exposed, more naked than he’d ever been between the sheets. The truth fell from his lips unbidden, without his permission. “Just stay.”

Castiel nodded his assent and stood, pulling Dean up with him. It was odd, being shepherded like that, but Dean found it relaxing, found himself easing into the loose circle of Castiel’s arms as they walked to his bedroom. Dean didn’t know what to do with himself when they walked through the doorway and Castiel gently shut the door behind himself. He stood there, listening to himself breath, feeling the small puff of Castiel’s breath on the back of his neck.

“Where are your pajamas?” Castiel asked quietly.

Dean felt something coiling low in his gut, wrapping around his resolve, choking him. He shouldn’t, he definitely should not. But, oh, how he wanted to. He wanted to so badly he hurt. The desire, the want was clawing up his throat, wrapping itself around his vocal cords, daring him to speak with his actions, forcing him to.

“Dean?”

The sound of Castiel’s husky voice, tinged with such care and concern broke him, all but shattered his already splintering self-control. Dean whirled, barely acknowledged the startled look in Castiel’s eyes before he had his body pinned to the door, a knee falling between those perfectly toned thighs, their chests together. Castiel opened his mouth, and Dean had no idea what he was going to say, he didn’t care what he was going to say. He kissed him fiercely, like he was going to breathe life back into Dean’s body. A quick swipe of his tongue and Castiel gasped, pressing himself closer. Dean reveled in it, tasting as much as he could in long swirls of tongue.

Castiel tasted spicy and sweet; he’d been eating Hot Tamales again, in between packages of Sour Patch Kids. His tongue tangled relentlessly with Dean’s, not necessarily in a battle of dominance, more asking for it instead.

Dean allowed himself to be turned, his back thudding heavily on his door before Castiel was ravaging his mouth again, all playfully lips and dominating tongue and he swore he was going to come in his pants if-

“Dean?” Castiel’s voice was _wrecked_. He was panting harshly, his breath hot and damp over Dean’s face. “Dean, what are you…”

Dean actually whined. His breath was punched out of him in a high-pitched sound, startling Castiel. “Cas, don’t. Don’t make me talk. I want. I want you. _I want you_.”

Castiel’s heart was racing. He was sure it would pound straight out of his chest if not for his ribs holding it in place for him. He swallowed tightly, meeting Dean’s eyes, struggling to focus in the darkness of the room. Dean was desperate, already rubbing himself greedily across Castiel’s thigh, merely moments from begging for it.

And, God, he was in no way prepared to handle that.

So he did the only thing he could. He threw himself back at Dean with fervor and enthusiasm, shoving him backwards over and over until the back of his knees hit the bed and Castiel was crawling over him. Dean started to say something; Castiel cut him off with a sharp growl, kissing him again, licking insistently at the roof of his mouth until Dean was absolutely keening beneath him. The sound made him feel drunk, high, everything all at once all over again and his heart almost shattered when he remembered what he had done to Dean.

Dean felt the slight shift in the air and rather than acknowledge it, he just tugged Castiel’s shirt off of him, dropping it to the floor, running his callused hands over Castiel’s smooth chest. He felt the muscles shift as Castiel sighed into the feeling, dropping forward over Dean again, leaning down to lick and bite and lave at his neck.

Dean let out a soft breathy moan, tilting his head to allow Castiel better access. Some part of his brain was shrieking about how horrible of an idea this was, that he was just coping with an awful night, an awful life and to shut that annoying shriek up, Dean ground up into Castiel, pressing their dicks together through the layers of denim.

Dean felt the shift in Castiel, felt the switch flip and that dark, demanding Castiel from the party light up again like a live wire on top of him. Castiel kissed him again, bruisingly hard and snarled against his mouth, “We need to get these off right now.”

It wasn’t like Dean was going to object to that.

In a whirlwind of movement they were both naked, condom and lube sitting beside them on the bed as Castiel sucked hickey after hickey into Dean’s chest and abdomen, running his fingers teasingly along the insides of Dean’s thighs. He paused his ministrations to grab the bottle of lube and Dean’s fingers wrapped around his wrist, stopping him.

“Dean?”

His eyes were wide, so blown with lust that Castiel couldn’t believe he was capable of pausing. “Cas,” he said. “I want...I want to be,” he swallowed, averting his eyes. “I want to top.” The words came out in a mad rush with a whuff of breath and Castiel nearly came right then.

“Okay,” he agreed. “We can do that.” he nodded, almost to himself, reassuring himself. It’d be so long since he’d allowed someone inside of him, so long since he’d even considered it as an option or trusted someone enough for it to be.

Dean’s hesitant voice brought him back out of his head. “Cas? I don’t...I’ve never…”

Castiel had that predatory look again. He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I can do this part.” He popped open the lube and squeezed a generous amount onto his fingers and proceeded to reach around himself.

He sighed when his first finger breached himself. It’d been so _long_. He’d forgotten the feeling of the slow burn twisting its way into pleasure, the way that he could crook his fingers just right and forget how to breathe for that split second. It was terrifying and heady and _God_ , he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it.

“You just gonna fuck yourself up there, because, you know, that’s cool too.” Dean had raised an eyebrow sarcastically, watching Castiel hungrily.

He blushed. He fucking _blushed_ , and then looked down, realizing he’d forgotten all about pleasuring Dean. But apparently, that was okay. Dean’s cock was laying thick against his belly, a small pool precome sliding down his side. He was getting off on watching Castiel pleasure himself and damn if that wasn’t the hottest thing ever.

“Maybe next time,” Castiel replied, his voice harsh with want, breathless with pleasure.

Dean let out a slow breath and reached over for the condom, tearing it open and rolling it over himself, biting his lip to stave off some of the pleasure. Castiel looked at him, holding his gaze as he lowered himself onto Dean’s cock.

It was a slow movement, careful, easy, almost relaxed except for the way that they were both panting, alternating between holding their breaths and near hyperventilating until Castiel was fully seated, balls rest heavily over Dean.

Dean’s fists were curled into his sheets, refraining from grabbing Castiel’s hips so he could thrust up. He felt as though he were suffocating, it was so tight. He could practically feel Castiel’s pulse all around him and as if that wasn’t intense enough-

Castiel pulled up slightly, holding his hand over Dean’s chest for balance as he slid back down. Dean groaned, nearly ripping the sheets out from underneath him. “Dean,” Castiel grunted. “You can...it’s okay.”

He groaned again, releasing his sheets and grabbing Castiel’s hips tightly before pistoning his hips upward. Castiel collapsed over him, falling onto Dean’s chest with a moan. “God,” he gasped. “ _Fuck_ , do that again,” Dean did, and Castiel’s breath was punched out of him. “Yes, yes, right there,” he panted. “ _Dean_ ,” his name is drawn out into way too many syllables and he loses himself thrusting up into Castiel, hearing the mindless words falling from his lips, egging him on.

And suddenly, Castiel was the one that was begging, pleading with Dean to continue. It was such an abrupt roll reversal and Dean would be damned if he refused it. His thumbs pressed into Castiel’s hips, holding him in place as he allowed himself to thrust harder, faster. Castiel’s arms were caging Dean’s head on the bed but that didn’t matter because wasn’t planning on stopping, not until-

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” Castiel chanted, his breath hot on Dean’s neck. “Keep-keep going. I’m, I’m gonna,” he never finished his sentence. He came with a long whine, shooting thick ropes of come over Dean’s stomach.

Two, three, four more thrusts and Dean was coming too, filling the condom as he squeezed his eyes tight, relishing in the feeling, trying to draw it out.

Castiel was the first to move, allowing Dean’s spent cock to fall from him with a wince. He hovered over Dean for a moment, taking in his relaxed features, long lashes resting on his cheeks, the slight upturn of his lips. “Dean,” he whispered, running a gentle hand over his cheek. “You don’t want to let this dry.”

Dean only mumbled something, but didn’t move. Castiel caressed his face again and got up, locating a box of tissues in the dimly lighted room. He wrapped the used condom in one and used another to clean Dean’s stomach with gentle movements and soft touches. He nearly tripped over the trashcan attempting to locate it, and prayed that Dean was too out of it to notice.

He walked back over to the bed and leaned down to find his discarded clothing. Dean’s hand came out of nowhere, and his fingers wrapped around Castiel’s, tangling gently. He looked up to see Dean staring at him sadly. “Stay.” He felt his heart swell, remembering that night so long ago, remembering the same words that had fallen from his mouth. “Please.”

He didn’t respond, but allowed himself to be tugged back into bed with Dean. He wrapped his arms around Dean, sliding a leg in between his and pulling him closer. The sheets reeked of sex and sweat. He didn’t know what would happen in the morning, when Dean was no longer being ruled by guilt and fear and his actions caught up to him. He knew that it didn’t mean forgiveness, but he’d take what he could get.

Dean rolled over, pressing his face into Castiel’s bare chest, wrapping his legs around Castiel’s, trying to pull him impossibly closer, as though Dean wanted to fold himself inside, away from everyone. He allowed it, pressing a firm kiss to Dean’s head as they both fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay I swear to God that there will be some major fix-it in the next couple of chapters. Idk why I can't write Jon as a good father, I just can't quite see it. But. I hope everyone enjoyed this and that it can tide you all over for another week!!


	7. The Bandaid, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel apologizes. Bobby presses charges against John. I don't believe there is anything potentially triggering in this chapter? Just angst. Very much angst.

Dean woke early, feeling too hot and thinking that he was forgetting something. He was naked, but that was a typical occurrence for him. He pressed his palms to his eyes, struggling, and then jolting suddenly as he memory flooded him.

He sat up, ready to throw the blankets off of himself when Castiel wandered back into the room. They both froze, staring at each other, gauging the others’ reaction. “Sammy,” Dean said. “I forgot--”

Castiel walked forward, putting a gentle hand on Dean’s chest, pushing him back so he was laying down again. “He’s fine,” he murmured. “I just went and checked on him. He’s still sleeping.”

“But is he _okay_?”

Castiel curled himself around Dean, trying to slow the inevitable freak out that was building. “He’s fine Dean. He’s had a shock, both physical and emotional. Him sleeping this long is not only normal, but definitely okay. It’s giving his mind and body a chance to fully process the events.”

With that, Dean relaxed, allowing himself to rest back onto Castiel, closing his eyes. He breathed deep, inhaled the fading scent of sex and sweat, the softer smell of Castiel’s fabric softener.

“Dean,” Cas started, but Dean raised his hand, cutting him off.

“One chance, Cas. One chance to say your piece or you can fuck off.”

Castiel bristled at that. How dare he set parameters on his apology? How dare he-Castiel deflated at that. _It was an apology long overdue_. It was an apology that shouldn’t have even been required, had he not been such an idiot.

He rolled Dean over so that they were facing each other and framed his face with his hands. “Dean Winchester, I am so sorry. I’m sorry that I cheated on you, that I took away your trust for me, that I couldn’t control myself, that I thought my behavior was excusable. I am so sorry that I fucked this up because what we had was amazing, terrifyingly amazing, and dammit, Dean, I will do _anything_ in my power to fix it.” By the end of his speech he was near tears, blue eyes glistening, glowing, boring into Dean’s. He was holding so tightly to Dean’s face, he felt as though the bones should have shattered, crumbled under his touch.

Dean took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. “Okay.”

Castiel froze, his hands slowly sliding from Dean’s face. “Okay?” he asked, in a small voice.

Dean opened his eyes again, his brows pulled together in a look of sympathy. “You need to give me some time, Cas.” Castiel clenched his teeth. Was a month of not communicating or even seeing each other not enough? Dean’s features softened and he brought an uncharacteristically gentle hand to Castiel’s face. “I mean, I need to get used to you being here again. I need time to remember that things are...okay.”

Castiel sighed to himself. “I understand.”

They laid together like that for sometime, having begun another inadvertent staring contest, green eyes studying blue and vice versa. Dean’s hand had somehow found its way up Castiel’s chest and around his neck, his thumb stroking the soft skin there.

A groan from the other room separated them. Dean tumbled from his bed, sifting through his sheets, trying to find sweatpants. He managed to get himself into them, only tripping once and then running into Sam’s room.

Sam was curled up in the middle of his bed, hugging a pillow to his chest, wide hazel eyes focusing on Dean as he ran into the room. “Dad?” he questioned, inadvertently holding the pillow tighter.

Dean sat down at the end of the bed, resting a gentle hand on Sam’s shoulder. “No, kiddo. He isn’t here.”

His whole body sagged with relief and he closed his eyes again. “I’m really hungry.”

Dean ruffled his younger brother’s messy hair. “I’ll make us some waffles if you go ahead and shower.”

“We have to go to the police station today, don’t we?”

Dean froze, trying to keep his hands from clenching into tight fists. “Yeah,” he choked out. “Yeah, we have to do that today. Bobby’s gonna come pick us up at noon.”

“But the Impala is still here?”

Dean took a deep, steadying breath. “Sam. Bobby is gonna pick us up at noon.” They held eye contact for another moment and Dean pushed himself back up. “Take a shower, alright?”

“Cas is here, isn’t he?”

 _Dammit_.

Dean scratched awkwardly at his head. “Uh, yeah. How did you…?”

Sam shrugged. “I woke up when you let him in last night. I heard him demand that you drink tea.”

Dean coughed out a laugh. What else had Sam heard? “Yeah. Um. I’ll explain...later. Go shower, nosy.”

Dean found Castiel in the kitchen, pulling things out of the refrigerator, wearing the same clothes from yesterday. Dean snuck up behind him as he was bent over in the fridge and wrapped his arms around his midsection. Castiel stiffened for a moment and then relaxed into Dean’s grasp. “Sam knows you’re here,” he murmured, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the back of Castiel’s neck.

“Do you need me to leave?”

Dean sighed, stepping away, inspecting the gallon of milk that Castiel had just pulled from the fridge. Expired. Of course. “Need? Very likely. Want? Definitely not.”

Castiel gave him a thin smile. “I understand.” his voice was brittle. “Give me a call when you’re home from the police station, please?”

Dean gave him a light peck on the lips. “Of course.”

* * *

 

Bobby slammed a fist on the table, startling everyone in the room. “I will not allow him to keep custody of these boys!”

The social worker regarded him calmly. “Mr. Singer, I cannot tell you what you want to hear. Dean Winchester is nineteen years old, therefore he is a legal adult. It is his choice to stay at home with his father.”

Bobby bristled. “Yeah? And what about Sammy? He’s only fifteen!”

“Samuel can legally emancipate himself in one year.”

Bobby’s fists came down again. “Have you seen him? His father beat the living shit out of the boy! You want him to stay in that home?”

The social worker merely blinked and crossed her arms. “Mr. Singer, I am going to have to ask you to calm down or you will be escorted from the premises.”

Bobby slumped down in his seat, training his eyes to the ground. Dean shot Sam a nervous look, who was sitting in his seat, looking white and frightened. His was holding tightly to Dean’s sweatshirt sleeve, his knuckles white and pink with the effort. He hadn’t spoken since they’d first come in, when he recounted everything that John had done to him the day before.

For the second time since they had sat down with the social worker, Sam spoke. “Why can’t Bobby have custody of me?”

It was as if all the air had gotten sucked out of the room. Dean thought he’d break his neck, he turned to Sam so quickly. He actually heard the joints in Bobby’s neck pop, he whipped around so fast.

The social worker tilted her head curiously, focusing on Sam. “Would you want that, Sam?”

He shrugged, suddenly shy and scuffed his shoe along the floor. “I like Bobby more than I like my dad,” he explained quietly.

The woman paused, writing something down on her notepad. “John Winchester can be arrested on one count of child abuse and one count of child neglect. He-”

“What about Dean here?” Bobby blurted, looking angry.

The woman gave him a cool look. “Dean is a legal adult. Seeing that John has not laid a hand on him with the intent to harm since Dean has been an adult, he cannot be tried for anything. Dean failed to inform the state of the abuse he experienced as a dependent, so therefore it is...nullified, now.” Bobby looked angry again, but she shot him a cold look, and his mouth clacked shut again. “Similar to a teen’s record being a clean slate when they turn eighteen.”

The room fell into a stifling silence again as everyone processed.

The social worker spoke again. “Now, if you were to fight for custody, you would be willing to press charges against John Winchester, correct?”

“Yes,” Bobby ground out. He was sitting on his hands now.

“You realize that, with our current system, he is unlikely to be jailed. He will be paying you child support. Now, if he fails to pay _that_ , _then_ he would be jailed, but right off the bat? That’s unlikely,” she explained.

“I want custody of Sam Winchester,” Bobby said softly. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

The woman pursed her lips and nodded. “Then we’d better get started. Do you have a lawyer?”

It was late evening when Bobby dropped the boys off at their home. He brought them grocery shopping, replenishing their empty fridge and cabinets, taking out a garbage bag of rotting food. He wiped down their counters and gathered the grocery bags, stuffing them into the recycle bin. Dean and Sam sat on the couch, slumped over and exhausted.

Bobby joined them, rubbing their shoulders soothingly. “You boy’s gon’ be alright for the night?” Dean grunted his assent, Sam only shrugged. “A’right. Uh, I’ll be here after the garage closes tomorrow night. I’ll make you boys some dinner.”

Sam frowned, and protested. “Bobby, you don’t have to-”

“Hush, boy. I do what I want and taking care of you is definitely within those boundaries. I’ll see you two tomorrow evening. Be nice if that social worker stops by.”

Dean’s nose wrinkled. The woman was witchy and annoying. He couldn’t remember her name for the life of him but he could very vividly remember the way that she bit the inside of her cheek every time that Dean spoke, her eyes narrowing just slightly. She looked at Sam as though he were a kicked puppy, at Dean as though he were a mentally handicapped rottweiler.

When Bobby left, Sam gave Dean a slow look. “I don’t even know what’s happening anymore,” he sighed.

Dean scrubbed his palms across his face, shaking his head. “Me neither, man. Me neither. C’mon. We both have school tomorrow.”

The fog over Sam’s face cleared suddenly and he stood up, wincing slightly. “Oh my god. How could you let me skip? What did you tell the principal? I need to get my homework from yesterday!”

Dean gawked at his younger brother. “Why’d I let you-?! Sam you were in _shock_ , or did you forget that part already?”

Sam bristled. “Yes, I know, but I’d rather not fall behind because of this little blip!”

“What? L-little _blip_?! You know what, go brush your teeth and go to bed.”

“You can’t-!”

Dean’s voice grew louder. “Yes, Sam, I can! You wanna know why I can? Because when mom died, you know who changed your diapers? _Me_. When dad went on a bender, who made sure you still had food? _Me_. Who did you call when dad went on another? Yeah, you called _me_. And right now I’m telling you to get your ass ready for bed. You can stress about school tomorrow.”

Sam glared at him before whirling and stomping to his room. The effect was somewhat ruined by the subtle limp Dean noticed and in an instant, he felt guilty. It’d been a difficult two days, granted, but it gave him no right to take it out on his little brother; his little brother who’d just been beaten by their father and is likely going to be caught between a custody battle very soon.

When he heard Sam pad back to his bedroom from the bathroom, he followed, knocking gently on the door before he walked in. Sam was pulling his blankets over himself and Dean winced when he saw flashes of the green and purple bruises across his sides and arms. “Listen Sammy, I’m sorry. I had no right to raise my voice at you like that.”

Sam shrugged, settling down in his bed. “It’s okay. We’ve both had a long couple of days.”

“Yeah but that’s no excuse-”

“Dean,” Sam pinned him with a hard look. “It’s fine. Go to bed, call Castiel.”

Dean hesitated, but finally excused himself from Sam’s room, finding his way to his own and falling heavily into his bed. His springs squeaked accusingly at him and he grunted, rolling over to pull his phone from his pocket.

Castiel answered on the third ring with a breathless, “Dean?”

“Hey, Cas,” he muttered, burrowing deeper into his sheets, and for the first time ever, missing Castiel’s mounds of pillows to hide underneath.

“Are you okay? What happened? How’s Sam?”

“Whoa,” Dean chuckled, the small huff of laughter leaving his lips, unbidden. “Slow your roll there, hoss. I just got into bed.”

Castiel laughed too, a nervous sound, as he picked at the loose threads of one of his pillows. He held the phone loosely, as though he were afraid it’d crumble in tightened fingers. “Well, now that you’re all tucked in, do I get my questions answered?”

Dean frowned, shrugging before he remembered that Castiel wasn’t next to him, and damn wasn’t that an uncomfortable expectation to have all over again. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he said. “It was...it was just a long day. Bobby wants custody of Sammy.” Castiel sucked in a breath. “Sam is...okay, I think. He’s losing his mind over school. I think it’s kinda his anchor, right now, you know?”

His unspoken words hung thick in the air and Castiel picked them up in a heartbeat. “You’re his anchor too, Dean.”

“I dunno,” he mumbled, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. “I yelled at him earlier. It’s just. It’s been such a long day, Cas.”

Castiel clenched his teeth, wishing Dean was there, tucked neatly into his side, filling that cold spot on his bed, between his sheets. “It isn’t your fault Dean. Like you said, it’s been a long day. It’s understandable that you both are wound a little tight.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Dean.”

He bit his tongue. “Yeah, Cas.”

“Go to sleep. It’s finals week and you probably have barely studied. I’ll see you tomorrow, 7:45, with your coffee, and a kiss, if you’re okay with that.”

Dean exhaled slowly. “Yeah, Cas. I’m okay with that.”

* * *

 

And then suddenly, Castiel was graduating. And Sam was seeing a therapist. And going to court with Bobby. They were both spending extensive amounts of time with that snooty social worker. And John was brought in for drunk driving and suddenly Dean’s time was spent getting split between school, work at the garage, nights at Castiel’s and days making sure that Sam made it through the hearings unscathed. Dean received his final grades and Castiel rewarded him long and hard that same night so that when Dean went back home the next day he was walking awkwardly. Bobby had raised a speculative eyebrow over his coffee cup, but said nothing.

May swooped in with a swift roundhouse kick to Dean’s face and his tuition bill for the last semester. He picked up more shifts at the garage and spent a night with a bottle of bourbon, wondering whether or not his degree was truly worth it. He woke the next morning in a bathtub with Castiel, who only gave him a disdainful look before soaping up his chest for him.

After their bath, they sat down together at the kitchen table, a glass of orange juice and two tablets of tylenol in front of Dean. “What do you want to do?” Castiel asked, his voice low.

Dean threw his hands in the air. “I don’t even know! I’m good at cars. That’s it, Cas. That’s all I’m good at!”

That phrase spawned the argument from hell, which involved Dean throwing his empty glass at Castiel and Bobby roaring at them both to sort their shit out elsewhere. Dean stormed from the house and was two feet from the Impala before Castiel grabbed his arm, tugging him back.

“Dean, don’t. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

“Fuck off, Cas,” he grumbled, shoving away. The Impala was thunder in Castiel’s ears, the sound of something he had irrevocably fucked up. Again.

He found himself at Crowley’s apartment, his own dorm having been cleaned out at the end of the semester, having inadvertently forced him into moving in with Dean. Crowley whistled when he opened the door. “What can I do you for, love?” he drawled.

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “I just need a place to be for a little while,” he explained. “That’s it. Nothing else.”

Crowley shrugged, opening his door a little bit wider. “Come on in.”

Dean sat at the park, his weight making the swing beneath him drag dangerously close to the sand. He wrung his hands nervously between his knees, searching for an answer in the grains of sand beneath him. By the time that it was dusk, he stood up, stiff and uncomfortable, still lacking the answers he’d been looking for.

On his way home, he stopped at the diner and picked up some burgers for he and Castiel, hoping to make a peace offering of it. Seven pm rolled by, and then eight, and Dean felt like his heart was in his throat. He turned in early, wrapping the blankets tightly around his shoulders, hoping to mimic the feeling of Castiel at his back.

When Castiel came back later that night, a cold burger sat on a dinner plate in the dining room for him, with the phrase “forgive me?” spelled out in ketchup around it. He paused, feeling as though he were mere moments from shattering to pieces right then and there. The house was quiet, waiting for him to make his next move, the next decision.

With heavy feet, he pulled himself to Dean’s (their?) room. Dean was laying in the middle of the bed, curled tightly into himself, the blankets taut around him. Castiel heart sunk. Since finals had ended, Dean had been sleeping so much better, even in the wake of the custody battle. Could one measly fight between them ruin so much?

He stripped down to his boxers, gently tugging at the blankets until Dean relinquished enough of them for him to slide under, into their warmth. He took a breath and then Dean was pushing back towards him, lining their bodies up, trying to curl in ever closer to Castiel. His heart squeezed and he wrapped a tentative arm around Dean’s midsection. He relaxed into the grip, his head lolling into Castiel’s shoulder, his body instinctively turning into his warmth.

Castiel kissed at Dean’s head, whatever he could reach without moving too much, scared to wake him. Still, Dean shifted, rolling over in the loop of Castiel’s arms to rest his head lightly on Castiel’s chest. “‘M sorry,” he mumbled, his lips brushing Castiel’s chest, making him shiver. “‘Missed you.”

Castiel exhaled, his grip tightening around Dean. “I missed you too, Dean. Go back to sleep, babe, I’m here.”

As Dean drifted off again, Castiel rested his chin in that head of messy hair and slipped into his thoughts. Babe, I’m here. He’d wanted to say something else. Something along the lines of, _sleep, beloved_ or _my love_.

The thought made his heart race a little bit faster, and allow sleep to elude him for longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for that crazy long hiatus!!!!! My mental health took a nose dive and I had to take some me-time to get back to a place of stability. This is a shorter chapter, because I have plans for next chapter!  
> Comments mean the world to me <3


	8. Endless Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just a pretty fluffy chapter, save for some angst.

The Kansas air was hot and humid, a heavy dampness that soaked into everyone’s shirts the second they stepped outside. Electricity bills ratcheted up and the sounds of the neighborhood kids playing out in the sprinklers drowned out by the drone of AC units. Castiel kicked all of his pillows onto the floor in the middle of the night, every night, pressing himself to the cool of the wall next to Dean’s bed. Dean had tried several times to convince him that one of them sleeping on an air mattress during the summer wasn’t so bad, but Castiel insisted that they both slept better when together.

So Dean got used to taking cold showers in the mornings to wash the sweat of another body off of him before he went into the garage for the day. Castiel sat on the floor of Dean’s bedroom in a pair of boxers and a tank top, going through boxes of Hot Tamales daily. His art portfolio was slowly growing, thanks to the internship he had scored at the daycare center in the city. He spent three days out of the week working with atypically developing children, as well as children with mental disorders, and always came home covered in some medium of art.

Dean was almost ashamed when he felt a sunburst of arousal upon seeing the streaks of paint all over Castiel, and it gave him ideas he was eager to entertain. Regardless of his hormones though, Castiel was always exhausted after being at the daycare, opting for a long shower and proceeding to throw himself, entirely naked and still damp, onto Dean’s bed and sleep.

Dean learned the extent of his own self control on those days.

Bobby became a regular in the Winchester household. He was slowly moving his own things into the house, packing up memories of John and his alcoholism and his abuse. Both of the boys were happy for the change. Sam’s therapy was making a big difference in his demeanor. He was sleeping through the night, his nightmares more and more infrequent. Every morning that Dean saw his younger brother’s smile, he felt some unknown force relinquish its grip on his heart; he breathed a little bit easier.

It was the last day of June and Dean woke in the middle of the night to a boom of thunder, rattling the house. The air in the room was heavy and damp, disconcertingly cool compared to how it had been for the last month. Castiel was shivering next to Dean, all of the blankets shoved down to the foot of the bed. He didn’t fight the fond smile that grew on his face as he tugged the sheet over Castiel and wrapped his arms tightly around him. One breath, then two, and Castiel was relaxing into the grip of Dean’s arms, sighing slightly in his sleep.

Dean stroked a tentative hand over Castiel’s forehead, brushing away tangled, damp strands of dark hair. Castiel flinched at that, burying his face closer to Dean’s arm and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. His heart swelled with a nearly foreign feeling, one so overwhelming that he felt himself get lost in it momentarily, a flash of lightning from outside jolting him back to reality.

And suddenly, in that fleeting moment in which his room was lit up with unearthly bright light, Dean recognized the strange feeling blooming and growing within him. His breath hitched with a moment of panic before the feeling settled in him, grounding him. He was okay with it, allowing the feeling to make itself at home in the depths of his heart.

He fell asleep knowing that no matter the circumstances, Castiel would be seared onto his heart forever.

* * *

 

“So what are you painting today?”

“I’m not actually painting anything; I’m writing up a lesson plan for the students in our care.”

Sam cocked his head to the side curiously. “But I thought you were only an intern? Also, it’s summer. Why are there lessons?”

Castiel smiled, not looking up from his work. “These children still have working parents. They’re aren’t mentally fit to be in a typical day care center, or even a typical school. Which is where lessons come in.”

Sam nodded sagely. “That’s really cool though, that they have teachers like you.”

Castiel smirked at that. “Still only an intern, Sammy.”

Sam wrinkled his nose and walked away, calling over his shoulder, “You suck!” Castiel only laughed after him, at least until Bobby came up and brought a hand to the back of his head. “Ya ain’t helping nobody get into the habit of just calling him Sam, y’know that?!”

Castiel rubbed the back of head, causing his hair to stand up in an even more unruly fashion. “It’s habit,” he grumbled. Bobby only grunted in response and walked away, leaving Castiel to glare at his lesson plans alone.

 

“Dean?” Jo’s voice was hesitant and Dean felt his heart freeze, wondering what went wrong, who broke what. “Someone’s here to see you?”

He wiped his hands on the greasy rag hanging from his pocket, straightening. “Who?”

Jo shrugged, backing towards the office, prompting Dean to follow her. “I don’t know. Just some guy. Say’s he knows you. He’s in the waiting room.”

Dean frowned, scrubbing at his hands a little bit harder before stepping through the doorway. The waiting room was empty, save for a short man with a flop of brown hair and calculating hazel eyes. When he noticed Dean, he stood up and walked over. “You must be Dean!” he exclaimed.

“Uh...yeah. Who’re you?”

The man stuck his hand out, looked at Dean’s and then tucked them into his own pockets instead. “Gabriel Novak! Castiel’s big brother.”

Dean couldn’t help his jaw dropping.  The man standing in front of him was short and slightly chubby, and looked absolutely nothing like Castiel. Noting Dean’s silence, he laughed and shrugged. “Adopted.”

Memory hit Dean like a freight train, Castiel recounting his older brother running away from home with he and his sister. _He saved us, really. His jokes and humor made life worth living while still home, and then kept us alive afterwards. He can be abrasive and rude, but really...I’ve never been in more debt to a person that I am to him._

Dean had to remind himself to close his mouth. “Oh, _man_! Cas has told me a lot about you. What’s up? Why’re you here? How’d you...know where I work?” The smile faded from his face in confusion.

Gabriel only smiled wider. “Similarly, I’ve heard a lot about you. I have a whole folder of emails from Castiel about you. I figure it was time to meet the man that my brother got clean for.”

“Clean...for?”

Gabriel’s smile faltered. “You know he’s clean, right? I mean, when I first started hearing about you, the emails were still drunk and-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean waved a hand. “I know he’s clean now. But what do you mean, for me?”

He wasn’t smiling at all anymore. “I mean...he told me about everything that happened with you guys. You caught him cheating while he was stoned on X, Y, and Z?”

Dean’s jaw clenched and his peripheral filled with red for a moment. It’d been so long since he’d really thought about the incident. He was sure he’d forgiven Castiel at this point, but thinking about was still like a knife twisting through his chest. He only nodded at Gabriel.

“He stopped...everything after that. Cold turkey. He called me while he was detoxing.”

Dean’s mouth fell open again and Gabriel only continued. “I had to send a friend to make sure he’d be okay. It was only about four days, but from what he told me, it was hell. He also told me he did it to get you back.”

“To...get me back?” Dean wasn’t sure he could believe his ears. He hadn’t even found out Castiel was clean until after they had been talking again for a while. Castiel hadn’t made it obvious, or even a topic of conversation.

“Yeah,” Gabriel was hesitant now, unaware of the information he’d just revealed. “So...I just came to visit to say thanks to the man who got me my brother back.” He started to hold his hand out for Dean to shake, saw the deeply ingrained grease stains and pulled his hand back again. “I’ll shake your hand when you guys come visit for Thanksgiving.” He gave Dean a mischievous smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes before turning and leaving the garage.

Dean was left standing, slack-jawed and alone in the waiting room, still reeling.

“Jo!” he roared, turning back to the work floor.

She crashed through the door looking harried, a streak of oil painting her cheek, her hair sticking to it. “What? What happened?” she gasped.

“Clock me out. I need to go home early today.”

She frowned. “Is everything okay?”

Dean grinned widely. “Jo, everything is awesome!”

He leapt into the Impala, cranking open all of the windows and popping in his favorite tape as he gunned it the few short miles home.

At the sound of the Impala’s familiar rumble, Castiel jumped up from his spot in the living room. Why was Dean home early? He still had two more hours left in his shift. He opened the door just as Dean had launched himself up the stairs on the porch.

“De-mmph!” Dean threw himself directly onto Castiel, sealing their mouths together with a heat and passion that rivaled the last time that they had fucked. Castiel’s lips were chapped and Dean licked at them insistently until they parted with a soft sigh, Castiel’s body melting to fit in close to his.

Castiel gently pressed his thumb into Dean's chin, effectively separating them. Dean continued to kiss his neck though, little pecks that shot heat through his body.

"Dean," he stammered. "Not that I'm not loving this, but aren't you supposed to be at work?"

Dean only shrugged, kissing his collarbone again. “Yeah, well. I met your brother today.”

Castiel jolted, nearly pushing Dean off of the porch. “What?” he squeaked.

Dean was frowning now. “Um...yeah. He came to the garage. And he told me-”

Castiel’s face suddenly dropped, a carefully composed poker face falling into place. “What’d he tell you?” he asked, his gravelly voice flat and emotionless.

Dean would have taken a step back, had his heels not already been at the edge of the porch. “Um. He told me why you got clean.”

Castiel’s heart seized. Even after he and Dean had gotten back together, after they had patched up their relationship with some paper and glue- he had never said a word about the reasoning behind his sobriety. When the subject came up, he merely brushed it off, or recounted a particularly graphic night of detoxing, steering the conversation away from his sobriety in general. The only person he really spoke to in depth about it with was Gabriel.

And of course, Gabriel had to share. He should have known.

“Dean, I-”

Dean felt as though he couldn’t breathe. “Were you ashamed or something? Did you think I’d be upset?”

Castiel flinched. “No, I just, I didn’t want you to think I was creepy, you know?”

Dean barked out a harsh laugh. “ _Creepy_?! Cas,” the words were bubbling up his throat, hot magma readying itself to spill from his lips, and dammit, he was okay with it. “Cas, _I love you._ I’m just so glad you’re sober, and that I was a part of it.”

Castiel’s lip wobbled before he caught it between his teeth, rolling it there gently. Dean’s eyes tracked the movement, his nerves cracking and flaying. “Hey, man, no need to say anything. Just, you know, leave a guy hanging after his big love confession, it’s cool.” He turned to step down the stairs, go back to work, forget the whole thing happened.

Castiel lurched and grabbed his shoulder, wrenching him closer before pulling him into another bruising kiss. Dean’s arms flailed desperately for a moment before closing around Castiel, pulling him closer, as if he were trying to just melt into him, and become one.

With one final lick into Dean’s mouth, Castiel pulled away, breathless, his chest heaving with exertion. “God _dammit_ , Dean, I love you too.”

“Thank fuck, because this would have gotten really awkward had that not been your answer.”

“Shut the fuck up. Let’s go to the Roadhouse tonight. I think we deserve burgers for pulling our heads out of our asses.”

Dean hummed in agreement before the words caught up with him. “Heads out of our-hey! _You’re_ the one who hesitated!”

“So sue me!” Castiel threw his arms up in the air. “You caught me off guard!”

Dean only shook his head. “Remind me never to propose to you.”

“Don’t propose to me.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah. But you love me.”

* * *

 

Their date to The Roadhouse was interrupted by Jo and Ash, who slid in next to Dean and Castiel, laughing about something or other. Jo laughed loudly when she learned that she was the catalyst for Dean and Castiel speaking again.

“You don’t even understand,” she said. “Dean’s giving me a tour of his campus at eight-fucking-thirty in the morning and expected me not to have coffee! You should have _seen_ him, begging me to just wait so we could go to Starbucks. I was like, what the fuck? You have a cafe right here on campus?”

Dean sat still and quiet, staring abashedly at his hands folded in his lap.

“And then, of course, I actually met Cas, here. And I fucking knew it. _This_ was the guy that Dean had been skulking over for the past month and half. So, because of my ever present need to help others, I put my charms to the test. And it worked.”

Castiel snorted into his soda. “Jo, as much as I appreciate the sentiment, I texted Dean that day of my own accord.”

“But only after you saw me and him.”

“Well, yes, but that didn’t-”

“So there!” she yelled. “I helped!”

Castiel gave Dean a _save me_ look, but Dean only shrugged, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

“So what are we doing for the Fourth?” she asked, derailing suddenly.

Dean almost inhaled the french fry he ate. “Excuse me?” he coughed out. “We?”

Jo only grinned and elbowed Ash, trying to get him to join in the conversation. Ash’s eyes came into focus and he nodded along. “We should have a huge party bash thing.”

Jo quirked an eyebrow at him. “God, you are so stoned,” she complained. “Go be useless elsewhere, I can convince these two on my own.” Ash only shrugged at her, extricated himself from the booth and ambled off to the other side of the restaurant. Jo rolled her eyes. “I have no idea why mom keeps him around.”

“I believe you’ve made it clear that no one else can manage the books,” Castiel provided helpfully.

Jo narrowed her eyes at him. “That aside, he is entirely useless. Anyways. Fourth of July. Plans, anyone?”

Dean shrugged, eating another french fry. “I guess Bobby might be amenable to a party at our place. Provided we clean up and all that jazz.”

Jo gave him a small smile. “Yeah, he has to do that now, huh? Is it weird? Him being like, your adopted parent now?”

Dean laughed, staring at his plate. “Not really. I mean, he’s been around forever, you know? He’s technically Sam’s adopted father now though, if we wanna get all legal.”

“That’s pretty cool.” Jo’s smile grew. “We used to spend so much time together as kids. Remember when Bobby took us all to Dairy Queen and you shoved Sam’s cone down his pants?”

Dean laughed loudly, his fist falling heavily on the table. “God,” he gasped. “His face was priceless! You could tell he wanted to cry but he didn’t want to explain the situation to Bobby!”

Jo was shaking with her laughter, wheezing breathlessly. Castiel hadn’t taken his eyes off of Dean though. Seeing him so happy, with his guard down, his eyes so bright and full of life, was a rare occurrence. He’d been so stressed recently, with all of Sam’s court-going, and working overtime while Bobby settled into his own new life, unable to spend all of his time at the garage anymore. The oppressive summer heat wasn’t doing anything to help either, leaving him mostly grouchy and overwhelmingly exhausted.

Seeing him spending time with one of his closest friends, with the dim light of the restaurant flashing in his eyes was something Castiel hadn’t realized he’d wanted until then. It was slowly brushing away the image of him that was weary, bone-tired from twelve hours of work and 98 degree weather. Now, while he was laughing with Jo, wiping the tears from his eyes, he looked lighter, and a thousand times happier. Castiel could feel his heart swelling with the adoration and love he felt for Dean.

Jo excused herself to go fix her makeup, which had gone runny from her laughter and attempts to contain her tears. Castiel turned to Dean and grabbed his face, their lips meeting in a gentle, chaste kiss. It was quietly passionate, and Castiel did his best to convey the storm of feelings that Dean was making him feel.

Dean pulled away slowly, his eyes still alight with emotion. He ran his thumb slowly over Castiel’s lip, cradling his face in his palm. “What was that?” he asked quietly.

Castiel smiled a little bit, the corners of his eyes crinkling just slightly. “I just,” he stumbled over his words a little bit. “It makes me so happy, to see you happy like this.

Dean mirrored Castiel’s smile, his heart beating a little bit faster. “I’m happy you get to see me this happy.”

The words were simple, if not redundant, but Castiel’s small smile grew into a full grin, his features rearranging for the movement and Dean gently kissed his chin.

“Am I interrupting something? I am totally interrupting something aren’t I? You guys were having a Moment, weren’t you? Shit and I fucked it all up!”

Dean only turned back to Jo, still smiling. “Well, this was kind of a date before you and Ash crashed it.”

Jo huffed, putting her hands on her hips. “Make me feel worse, why don’t you. Whatever. I still get credit for you getting back together.” With that, she whirled and walked away. Dean and Castiel were still smiling, still holding each other. About six feet away, Jo paused and turned again. “Also,” she called. “Mom says dinner is on the house tonight because, and I quote, “they look fucking adorable, I’ve never seen Dean so in love”. So, yeah. You’re welcome!”

They got back to the house late, while the cicadas were chirping loudly and the sky was an inky blue from the moonlight. They had sat together in the Impala making out until Bobby opened the door and yelled, “You do know ya’ll live here right? The both of ya? There’s no damn reason to be humping in your car like a bunch a horny teenagers! Get in here!” _Slam_.

They separated, laughing a little bit. Their lips were swollen with kisses, red and slick with spit. “Bobby has a point,” Dean murmured. “Let’s get inside. We’ll continue this eventually.”

Castiel only smiled, almost bashfully, before opening his own door and stepping out into the humid air.

The air conditioning was a lovely reprieve from the humidity and Dean breathed it in like it was his last time. Sam was sitting in the living room, directly in front of the AC unit, a sheaf of papers spread out in front of him. Dean moved closer to read them, and then nearly tripped over his own feet, backing away. “Sam, what the fuck?” he exclaimed.

“Language!” Bobby roared from the kitchen.

Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean. “What?”

“College? Already? You just finished your sophomore year!” He was bewildered, eyes still trained on the multitude of papers exclaiming why their university was the best of the best.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, and I need to start figuring out what my GPA and SAT scores needs to be so that I can get into my top choices!”

Dean floundered. “ _Choices_? Correct me if I’m mistaken, but when you get into a school, you typically stay there till you’ve got your degree, right?”

From behind him, Castiel laughed, wrapping his arms around Dean’s midsection. “The concept may escape you, Dean, but Sam wants to have choices for his schools.”

Dean scowled. “Why? There’s a perfectly good college right down the way. Totally accessible. He’d get in easy.”

Castiel snorted, pressing a light kiss to the back of his boyfriend’s neck. “Dean, they would very likely kick Sam out, solely because he could just as easily get into a better, more qualified school.”

Dean paused, the room suddenly feeling like ice. Of course Sammy could get into a better school. Sammy was smarter. Sammy had the better grades, the better brain. Sammy could get into MIT, if he really wanted to.

Dean had to struggle just to get into the state school. Finishing high school alone was a disaster that he had been sure he wouldn’t live through. And here was Sammy, sailing through on his smooth seas of spectacular grades.

“Good point,” he finally mumbled, extricating himself from Castiel’s grasp. “I’m going to lay down. Headache.”

Castiel began to follow Dean and then hesitated. It was as though someone had flipped a switch, Dean’s demeanor going from happy and light to suddenly dark, like a storm cloud had decided to station itself over his head.

Even Bobby commented on it with a grunt of, “that was odd,” before going back to the kitchen, tinkering around with whatever it was he was working on. Sam remained engrossed in his college research, gently pressing a highlighter into one of his pages, his tongue poking out of his mouth in his focus.

Castiel stood in the middle of the living room, unsure of which direction he should go. Did Dean need space? How much space? Did Bobby need help? Would he even be able to help? He clenched his fists, took a deep breath and ended up sitting in the middle of the couch, staring at the TV for five minutes before realizing that he hadn’t even turned it on. Sam was still intent on his college tasks, not noticing Castiel’s lingering presence.

Dean threw himself heavily onto his bed, half-heartedly stripping down to his boxers, burying his head under the pillow. Would he ever get over this? Sammy was always going to be the better kid, but Dean thought he’d accepted the fact years ago.

Obviously, the thought still lingered quite a bit, his efforts to shake it off futile.

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there, breathing in the tangled scent of himself and Castiel, their lingering sleepy sweat on the sheets. He was beginning to feel calmer, the self deprecating thoughts mildly quieter.

And then the bedroom door opened.

“Dean?” Castiel’s normally confident voice was hesitant and worried.

He groaned. “Cas, please don’t.”

“Dean, please talk to me,” he retorted. Dean’s head was still buried, missing the stubborn way that Castiel crossed his arms.

“About?”

“Why you suddenly stormed away like someone pissed on your parade the second that we walked through the door.”

Dean sat up, the pillow that he was hiding underneath rolling to the floor. His hair was standing on end, making him look more bedraggled than he truly felt. Castiel stood on the other end of the room, looking worried and hurt. “Cas, seriously, it isn’t that big of a deal. I’m _fine_.”

Castiel laughed, the sound condescending. “Seriously, Dean? Everyone knows that _you_ being _fine_ means contemplating jumping off of something.”

Dean glared at him. “I’m not that dramatic.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, sitting tentatively at the foot of Dean’s bed. “No, you aren’t, but you might as well be. Now will you tell me what the hell happened out there?”

Dean stared guiltily at his hands. _Great, now I’m already fucking shit up with Cas again. Beautiful._ “Listen Cas, it really isn’t that big of a deal. Can we just go to bed? I’ve got an early shift at the garage tomorrow since Bobby and Sam have to meet with the social worker again.”

Castiel sighed, toeing his shoes off and unbuttoning his jeans. “Fine Dean. Let’s go to bed.”

Silence fell as Castiel undressed and turned the AC on while Dean shuffled under the sheet. Castiel slid in next to him, and despite Dean’s half hearted protests, wrapped his arms around him, his hands settling low on Dean’s abdomen. He nudged his face into the crook of Dean’s shoulder, pressing light kisses there. “Cas,” Dean whispered.

“Talk to me,” he murmured in reply. “Please.”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, taking a steadying breath. He should have known Castiel would do that, would wait until escape was virtually impossible. There were times that he’d pinned Dean to the ground and waited him out, waited til he told him everything.

“I just hadn’t thought of it, y’know? Better schools. I barely made it through high school. KU barely accepted me. I should have known Sammy would aim higher than a state university. He’s the smart kid.”

Castiel sighed. This was typical of Dean, of course, but that never made it any easier. “Dean, you’re smart too.”

“Not Sammy smart.”

“How many people do you know can diagnose a car just from listening to it?”

“Probably a good portion of my class.”

Castiel huffed. “Yeah, but none of them are you. You’re passionate about it. You love it. Hearing your baby rumble underneath you? I swear I’ve never seen you smile so big. When you roll out from under her, covered in God-knows-what, you’re gorgeous. You could build a car from bottom-up if the opportunity presented itself. I bet your classmates would flounder at that.”

Against his will, Dean huffed out a small laugh.

“And you know what else?” Castiel continued. “I bet you that none of your classmates have a family member that they feel love for in the same way that you love Sam.”

Dean snorted. “I’d jump in front of a bus for that kid.”

Castiel smiled fondly, tightening his arms around Dean, pulling him closer. “I know you would. That’s exactly my point. You’re brilliant and amazing and your soul shines brighter than a thousand suns. Sam is going so far because of you. You need to stop comparing yourself.”

Dean sighed, allowing himself to relax in Castiel’s hold. “Why do you always do this?” he finally asked.

Castiel pressed another lingering kiss to Dean’s neck, his breath raising gooseflesh. “Because someone needs to shut up that put-down voice you’re so hellbent on feeding.”

Dean rolled over, finally meeting Castiel’s eyes. He leaned forward and kissed him gently, their lips moving in tandem for a few short moments before he pulled away, his lips turning up in a small smile. “I love you,” he finally said.

Castiel felt the inside of him react similar to that of a sunburst. He smiled back. “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait! The end of the semester is rearing its ugly head and I had to go to the hospital on Monday for severe vertigo!  
> As this fic is coming to a close, I just wanted to say if anyone gets motivated to make fanart from this please please share it here! It would mean the world to me.  
> [My Tumblr](http://veganasana.tumblr.com/)  
> :)  
> Comments make my day!


	9. Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good things happen, some assholes come back (MAJOR warning for homophobic language/slurs)  
> and smut, as requested.

If Dean had thought the June heat was unbearable, then August was doing its best to kill him. They were doing laundry nearly every two days, considering that letting several sweat-soaked shirts from each day, sit until Sunday was a recipe for disaster. He’d spent July fifth in the hospital due to severe dehydration, having nearly given himself alcohol poisoning the night before. He’d argued with the doctors about how he hadn’t consumed nearly as much alcohol as he was capable of handling, but then a rather cute and rude nurse named Pamela told him he needed to drink more water and that he had “fucked up his homeostasis and alcohol doesn’t hydrate you, you ass.”

Upon his discharge, Bobby handed him a large Camelback water bottle and one of the weird backpack things that held a gallon of water. “I’ll fire yer dumbass if I don’t see this on your person through all yer shifts, ya idjit.”

Bobby wouldn’t fire him, he was sure of that. It didn’t mean he willing or ready to test the theory. As soon as he was dressed in the mornings, Castiel was somehow awake and filling the backpack with water, eager to see that Dean outfitted himself in it. “I swear you have a fetish,” he groused one morning as Castiel tightened the straps on his back.

“Yeah, one of you being _alive_. Necrophilia has never been my thing.” At that moment Sam had shuffled sleepily out of his room and had frozen to the spot, staring at Castiel in utter horror. “Well, shit,” he shrugged. “We’ve creeped out your brother yet again. Go to work.”

On the first day of August, Castiel had come back home from the daycare center and hurled himself at Dean, nearly knocking him into the table. Dean’s arms instinctively wound around Castiel’s waist, catching him while simultaneously hip-checking himself into the corner of the table. “ _Cas_ ,” he hissed out, half confused, half pissed, mostly in pain.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry!” Castiel babbled. “I’m just so-I’m so happy! And I mean-today was-and they-! I can’t even- I mean _look_!”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean hushed him. “Lay off the crack for a minute there, man. _What_?” he held Castiel away at arm’s length, trying to relieve some of the pressure on his hip, which was still throbbing painfully.

“I just,” Castiel stuttered again. “Look!” he shoved a paper in Dean’s face, too close and too jittery for him to actually read until he took Castiel’s hands between his own, soothing the excessive shaking long enough to read the print.

_Castiel Novak, we are pleased to inform you that  you’ve been accepted for a full-time position in our Special Attention & Needs program._

Dean whooped, jolting Castiel away from him, his fist punching the air. “Cas, this is awesome! I’m so proud of you!”

Castiel was grinning, wide and infectious, feeling as though he had just climbed the top of a mountain. It was as if all of his high school dreams were coming true, his path lighting up in front of him with every step. Just over a year ago, he’d been prepared to call it quits. He’d been looking for a way to scrape by, earn his degree and then likely move in with Crowley, if not for the drugs, then so that he would have some semblance of company. He was going to change his cell number the moment he graduated, separating himself from Anna and Gabriel for good.

Instead, here he was, with a full-time job, living with the man he loved, doing the things he loved. Granted, it was hotter than hell outside, and said man he loved had an Uncle (or whatever he was) that was perpetually cranky and a little brother with the worst timing anyone could ever have. And regardless of all of that, he was still happy.

Dean was kissing him again, more of a mashing of their lips together because Castiel was still trying to babble, in all of his stuttering excitement, and Dean just wanted to kiss him, he was so happy. The moment was messy and raw and naturally, that was the moment Sam walked in. He pulled a bitchy face, promptly turned on his heel and went back to his room.

When Bobby came back from the garage, covered in grease and sweat, all three boys were buzzing with excitement and all but begged him to let them grill burgers outside and light sparklers that evening as celebration. He grumbled and groaned but grudgingly pushed forty dollars into Dean’s hand, a small smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

Dean pressed a chaste kiss to Castiel’s mouth and left in a hurry. The sun was just beginning to set, making it the perfect temperature to lower the windows in the Impala and crank his music without pissing off too many neighbors or getting cold.

He reached the supermarket in what felt like record time, but maybe he was just excited. He couldn’t get his head around the fact that the last two months had gone so well (save for his trip to the hospital, which he shrugged off). He’d never seen himself taking back a cheater, never seen himself wanting to. The thought alone of getting cheated on was always enough to make his heart hurt, but experiencing it?

He clenched his teeth, walking quickly to the meat department. It had taken him a long time to understand the workings of an addiction and an even longer time to accept them. The Castiel that had so readily thrown himself at someone else wasn’t his Castiel. The Castiel that had laid with him and comforted him after the event with John, was his.

Dean was contemplating ground beef choices when a dark voice reached his ears from a few feet away. “Hey, faggot.”

His back stiffened and he carefully placed his options down before turning slowly. There, in all their stupidity, were chuck and Gordon, arms crossed, matching sneers on their faces.

Dean forced a grin. “What’s up guys? Haven’t seen you since the fall semester. Time flies, eh?”

Gordon snorted. “Oh I’m sure time does _something_ when you’re taking it up the ass like a little bitch.”

Dean’s grin twisted a little bit. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, you heard him, you _whore_ ,” Chuck said. “You take it like a little princess now, don’t you? Probably get up on your knees and sit pretty for him.”

With those words, the anger left Dean like the air from a balloon. Amusement made his eyes twinkle and he cocked an eyebrow. “Ya know, for two determinedly straight dudes, ya’ll spend a lot of time contemplating the gay sex I’m having.”

Gordon’s jaw clicked shut with such force that Dean hear it from where he was standing. Chuck’s remained gaping open before he shook himself. “Are you fucking kidding me, you fag?” he cried. “The thought gives me nightmares! And I shouldn’t need to suffer in that alone.” his brows were drawn together; he was struggling to keep the conversation in the direction that he needed it to be.

Dean took a step forward, biting his tongue to keep from laughing when Chuck and Gordon flinched back. “Nightmares, eh? That’s funny because, man, the thought of it gives me the _best_ dreams. You know the kind. You got a little surprise in the-”

Gordon and Chuck looked downright disgusted now and finally they took larger steps backwards. “Ugh,” Gordon gagged. “Stay away from us gay lord!”

“With that originality?” Dean laughed. “Trust me, it’s a favor for myself.” Chuck flipped him off before they began to walk away. Unable to help himself, Dean called after them, “say, anyone ever tell you that you guys spend an awful lot of time together? If you ask me, I’d say you’re hiding something!”

Suddenly Gordon was right there, his fist twisted tight in the front of Dean’s tee. “No one asked you anything, you fag whore. And if anyone does ask you anything, I’ll beat you within an inch of your life. Got it?”

It took all of his energy not to get spitting angry. Instead, he only grinned wider and shrugged. “Sure thing.” Gordon dropped him and stormed away, leaving Dean to straighten his shirt and then turn back to his selection of hamburger.

Despite his unruffled appearance, Dean was breathing hard, his heart hammering in his chest. It took every ounce of his strength to not tear into Chuck and Gordon. Regardless of the odds, he wanted them to eat their teeth for even thinking that kind of shit.

As he dropped the beef in the basket, he paused, jolting. Did he just admit to being gay? Did he just accidentally come out? He stood there, breathing deeply, waiting for the panic to grow, to swallow him up from the inside out.

Instead, it never came. A Jack Johnson song was playing over the grocery store speakers, and it brought a small smile to his face because this was one of Castiel’s favorite songs to paint to. Dean remembered why he was at the store and his smile grew. He took his phone out as he walked through the store for the rest of the ingredients.

**Dean:** _am I gay?_

**Castiel** : _I don’t think so._

**Dean** : _Okay. I was just checking._

**Castiel** : C _ome home soon. We’re hungry._

* * *

 

By the time the sun was setting below the horizon, Castiel was happily buzzed, leaning back in a lawn chair, telling Dean, Sam and Bobby about the previous week in the daycare center. His hand was hanging off the armrest, his fingers tangled loosely around Dean’s, allowing the occasional squeeze in the middle of his stories.

Bobby, in his good mood, allowed Sam a beer or two for the evening, ignoring the slightly disgusted face he made each time he took a sip. He was just happy to be included in the evening’s activities, regardless of his age. Dean had a goofy smile on his face; he hadn’t taken his eyes off of Castiel since they’d finished cleaning up and sat down.

The sky was a dusty orange color, long shadows casting over the backyard. The cicadas were chirping loudly, basking in the cooling Kansas air. The air smelled faintly of gas from the grill, and freshly cut grass from their neighbor. Dean soaked up the sound of Castiel’s voice, intermingled with Sam and Bobby’s laughter and _this_. This was it. This is what home felt like, he was sure of it.

Later that evening, after having pushed a slightly tipsy Sam into bed, Dean and Castiel laid in bed together, their legs tangled comfortably together. Castiel stroked a gentle finger over Dean’s face, feeling it trip over the three-day stubble that Dean’s been too lazy to shave.

“I love you,” he whispered softly.

As always, Dean ducked his head, pressing his face into Castiel’s neck before mumbling back, “love you too.” It had taken a few tries to get him to explain that one. It wasn’t done out of embarrassment or shame or even guilt. It was the fact that every time Dean wanted to say the words, his heart swelled uncomfortably and he got a giddy smile on his face and _that_ was the embarrassing part. Castiel teased him about it once or twice, and then resigned himself to the fact that this was Dean, so it was okay.

Dean’s hands were drifting gently over Castiel’s exposed midsection, making him huff in laughter at the ticklish sensation until Dean’s fingers dipped a little bit lower. His breath caught in his throat, hitching. Dean looked up at him, his giddy grin turned leering.

“How you doin’, hoss?”

Castiel tried to muster a glare, but Dean’s hand continued, slipping under the waistband of his boxers and his breath left him in a sudden rush, words disappearing from his tongue. Dean’s hand closed on his rapidly hardening cock and his eyes fluttered shut.

“Cas?”

“I’m g-good, Dean,” his last word left him in a breathy gasp, his hips canting up into the loop of Dean’s fingers.

“You sure?” Dean asked, his lips pressed into Castiel’s collarbone and stroking his thumb over the sensitive head.

“ _Dean_ ,” he whined quietly.

Dean chuckled, tightening his grip slightly and using his other hand to tug Castiel’s boxers down his hips, helping him kick them off onto the floor. “See,” he said, still keeping his hand in motion. “I figured that you deserved a reward for your accomplishment today.” He began to scoot himself down the mattress when Castiel’s hand reached out and wrapped around his shoulders.

“I don’t….I want…”

Dean only quirked an eyebrow, his smirk still playful. “Cat got your tongue there?”

Castiel clenched his teeth and growled, hauling Dean up the bed and pulling him in for a furious kiss. There teeth clicked together and Dean tasted blood but dammit, Castiel was doing that thing with his tongue that was downright _sinful_ and he’d be damned if he were the first to try to come up for air on this.

Thankfully, Castiel was the first to pull away, panting, his eyes were bright with lust, gleaming in an almost predatory way. “I’m going to be inside of you tonight Dean. That’s going to be my reward.”

Dean’s jaw all but dropped open and he stumbled to regain his composure. “Y-yeah. Sure thing, Cas. You got it.”

Castiel leaned down, pressing his lips to the shell of Dean’s ear. “You are going to listen to every single thing I tell you to do and do it without hesitation,” he whispered darkly.

The burst of precome that sentence caused made Dean feel like he had just came in his pants. His jaw clicked shut and he nodded frantically. Castiel’s smirk grew into a dark smile. “Take your clothes off.”

Dean swallowed. He’d left his T-shirt on, knowing that Castiel liked it as a buffer between them as they slept. Now, he slowly lifted it over his head and threw it across the room. Castiel raised an expectant eyebrow. Dean wanted to wink at him, but instead, held their same steady eye contact as he slowly freed his cock from his boxers, allowing them to slide slowly down his legs before he kicked them off. Castiel’s smile grew and he crooked his finger. As though connected by something invisible, Dean’s feet dragged him forward until he was directly in front of Castiel.

In one swift movement, Castiel stood and shoved Dean flat on the bed, nearly knocking the wind out of him. He straddled Dean’s hips, hovering just slightly so there wasn’t any pressure on either of them. He leaned over slowly, dragging his lips over Dean’s neck, his chin, his cheeks. By the time he reached Dean’s mouth, Dean’s chest was absolutely heaving with the effort not to flip them over and have his way.

Castiel trailed a blunt fingernail down the center of Dean’s chest, watching the ripple of muscle as he tensed up. He leaned back down and captured Dean’s mouth again, kissing him softer this time, languidly rolling his tongue with Dean’s, tasting him, breathing him in.

The kiss was so gentle and distracting that Dean hadn’t even realized that Castiel had already gotten the lube out. He jolted, nearly biting Castiel’s tongue when a wet, cool finger teased low behind his balls. He broke away from the kiss, gasping, his eyes opening to see Castiel peering curiously down at him. He opened his mouth to say something-he didn’t know what- when that finger breached him; slowly and careful. Whatever words he was thinking of saying left him in another breathless gasp. Castiel held his gaze as he slid in a second finger to join the first.

Dean laid there beneath him, his body lax and pliant as Castiel slowly and patiently opened him up. Every time his eyes fluttered shut, Castiel’s free hand clenched down tightly on his chin, and his eyes shot back open. _Okay_ , he thought blearily. _Eyes open. He wants my eyes open_.

Castiel crooked his fingers, having added a third and Dean’s lower body flailed off of the bed before Castiel’s arm locked around his waist. His fingers pressed insistently against Dean’s prostate until he was a shivering mass on the bed, practically sobbing with desire. Castiel tore a condom open with his teeth and one hand, and rolled it over his dick, clenching his teeth, trying to stave off the sensation, the excitement of being inside Dean again.

He withdrew his fingers and Dean shamelessly moaned, squirming back down, trying to be filled again. Castiel only shuckled darkly and pinned Dean’s wrists to his sides before saying, “Roll over,” his voice husky and filled with lust.

Dean swallowed and yanked his wrists from Castiel’s grasp, rolling himself to his stomach. He took a deep breath, propped himself up on his knees and elbows and thrust his ass out and up, in a display that would have been embarrassing had it been anyone but Castiel behind him.

Castiel let out a throaty moan, gripping the base of his cock tightly as he moved towards Dean. He watched Dean’s muscles tense and ran a soothing hand down his spine before positioning himself, and ever so carefully pushing in. Dean gasped at the sensation, the drag of their skin together, separated only by a thin layer of latex. Castiel moved slowly, forcing Dean to experience every sensation, forcing him to take it all. Beneath him, Dean shuddered and shook, fighting to keep his eyes open, locked onto Castiel’s as he was filled.

When Castiel finally bottomed out, they both breathed out a soft sigh. Castiel was practically trembling with the effort not to just mindlessly fuck into Dean’s tight heat. Dean was already trying to cant his hips upwards, get some sort of rhythm started and he felt his resolve crumbling.

He leaned down close, biting lightly on Dean’s ear and reveling in the breathy moan it released. “Want me to fuck you, Dean?” he whispered.

Dean’s eyes rolled back slightly and his whole body froze and tightened, making Castiel hiss. Dean’s tongue darted out to lick his lips. “Yeah, Cas,” he murmured, his voice low. “Please.”

Hearing him so wrecked, so utterly _debauched_ was Castiel’s undoing. He slowly withdrew himself, eyes locked on the sight of his cock pulling from Dean’s ass, before thrusted harshly back in. Beneath him, Dean cried out, nearly collapsing, panting loudly. Castiel drew his hips back and again and this time Dean met his thrust, forcing a keening, gurgling sound from the back of Castiel’s throat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dean chanted, forcing his body back again. “God, Cas…”

Castiel hovered over Dean, bewildered, watching him fuck back onto his cock. He’d meant to be the one in control here, the one taking. Instead, he was watching Dean underneath him, fucking himself as though Castiel was merely a cock to be used.

And _shit_ , if that thought alone didn’t make him even harder.

He bowed himself over Dean, biting lightly at the juncture of Dean’s neck and shoulder, feeling the full body shudder it caused. He pressed his lips to Dean’s ear, speaking lowly, in between gasps. “Dean you- _oh_ -Dean you look so good. I’m on top and _nghh_ , you’re the one doing all the work here.”

Dean practically growled, rolling his hips back in a particularly harsh thrust. “Care to help out?” he gasped, meaning to sound playful; instead, his voice came out whiny and desperate and he wanted to bit his tongue for it.

Castiel started, remembering what this was about; this was Dean giving back to him, celebrating with him. With that thought, he brought his palm down sharply over the back of Dean’s neck, forcing his face into the mattress, while his other arm coiled tightly around Dean’s midsection, holding them tightly together. “It’ll be my pleasure,” he murmured.

Suddenly he was fucking Dean with renewed fervor, revitalized energy. Dean was nothing but pliant beneath him, moaning obscenely into the mattress, sobbing when Castiel thrust particularly hard right up against his prostate.

“Cas,” he groaned. “Cas, please. ‘m gonna… _Cas_!” One more thrust, one more harsh glide of Castiel’s dick over his prostate and he was coming, spilling over the sheets beneath him, sobbing again with the force of it. Castiel continued to thrust into him, grunting with exertion before his entire body seized up and he too came with a groan that was too loud in their small room.

Beneath him, Dean was panting and he dredged up the energy to pull himself from Dean, almost whimpering from the loss of heat and managed to get rid of the condom in a neat toss to the trash can.

Castiel leaned over the edge of the bed, groping around until he found what he was looking for-a large towel that Dean had left there from his shower that morning. He spread it over the sheet, covering the large splatters of Dean’s come before gingerly laying both of them over it. He kissed softly at the back of Dean’s neck until he heard a soft sigh, and Dean’s body relaxed entirely against his.

“I love you,” Dean mumbled sleepily.

Castiel stroked a sweaty strand of hair away from Dean’s neck before kissing him again. “As I do, you.”

They laid their for a moment, basking in each other’s warmth, sleepiness seeping into their bones. Castiel blinked, remembering something. “Dean, why did you ask me if you were gay?”

Dean snorted, fluffing the pillow beneath him before flopping back down. “Had a run in with Chuck and Gordon today. I think I accidentally came out to them.”

Castiel’s blood ran cold. “What happened?”

Dean shrugged. “They were brushing up on their homophobic slurs, nothin’ I couldn’t handle.” He felt Castiel’s grip on him tighten. “Hey, really. It was fine.”

Castiel bit down on his lip. “Well, for the record, I don’t think you’re gay. I overheard you telling Sam the other night about the incredibly hot gas station lady.”

Dean’s cheeks heated up. “Hey, I can’t help it! Tits were all I looked at for years, alright?”

Castiel laughed quietly. “I’m not angry, Dean. You wouldn’t be you without your brash perverseness and witty innuendos.”

“I can’t tell if that was a compliment or if I should feel insulted.”

“Go to sleep, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, guys! we're at the home stretch! One more chapter! As always, comments make my day :)  
> Follow me on [Tumblr](http://veganasana.tumblr.com/)


	10. Infinite Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean graduates.

**A year and a half later.**

It was surreal, being here. The gown and cords were heavy on his shoulders, his back already dampening slightly with sweat. He paid it no mind, though, and instead twisted in his seat to locate Bobby, Sam, and Castiel in the balcony. Castiel caught his eye again and waved enthusiastically. Dean grinned back up at him, lifting an arm before settling back into his seat.

As the ceremony began, Dean momentarily cursed his father’s last name, and sent blessings to the person who decided that they should hold graduation indoors this year. He fidgeted slightly, losing focus on the words of the speaker, his head lolling and eyes closing.

“Hey, Dean, hey! Wake up!”

Dean’s eyes opened blearily to the shock of blue hair in his face. What was her name? Kayla Winnie...Wimbler? “Come on! We’re walking!”

His heart leapt into this throat. How had he fallen asleep so easily? He stood, quickly checking his chin for drool. Satisfied, he followed whats-her-name Wimbler down the aisles of seats and to the stage.

“Dean Winchester…Associates in Mechanical Engineering, awarded with high honors.” He grinned, shaking the hand of the university president, gripping his newly awarded diploma tightly. He could hear Castiel and Sam whooping loudly in the audience and he choked on his laughter.

Seeing that he was at the end of the roster, the ceremony wrapped up soon afterwards and he pushed his way through the crowd, seeking out his family. Sam reached him first, his long legs carrying him easily around everyone. “Let’s go!” he cried. “We’ve got a party to throw!”

Bobby appeared next to him and patted Dean sharply on the back. His eyes were shining. “Congrats, son, I’m so proud of you.”

Another grin split Dean’s face and he pulled Bobby into a hug. “Thanks man.”

“Your momma would have been proud.”

A lump began to grow in Dean’s throat, but before he could respond, Castiel barrelled bodily into him, gripping Dean tightly, nearly spinning them. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered, his throat tight.

Dean squeezed him back. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” he replied.

And it was true. His last two semesters were stressful at best. He had two math based courses to complete and had to build a clock in one of his classes (which was entirely pointless and he’d almost quit solely for that reason). He’d be exhausted by the end of every week, collapsing into bed without so much as a goodnight to his boyfriend.

All the same though, Castiel remained supportive, coming home from work and cooking meals for Sam and Dean so that Bobby could close the garage and come home to eat as well. He helped Dean study and did their laundry together. He made sure that Sam went to bed on time and that the dishes got done regularly.

When they got back to the house, Dean gladly stripped out of his robes and took a hurried shower, reveling in the cool water over his overheated skin. The driveway was already filling and he could smell the propane that was fueling the grill. Even through the walls he could hear the bustling in the kitchen, Sam’s heavy footsteps and Bobby’s laughter.

Dried and dressed, Dean came out and joined the party. In an instant, he was overwhelmed. Jo tackled him first, squealing in her joy. Ash tossed him a beer, Ellen crushed him in a hug. Benny patted him on the back so hard that he stumbled and nearly spilled his beer.

“Dean-o!”

Dean whirled. There wa Castiel’s brother, Gabriel and a drop-dead gorgeous redhead standing shyly right next to him. He was immediately caught in the short man’s grasp, being tightly squeezed. “Congrats!” Gabriel’s voice was loud in his ear. He stepped away, holding his arm out to the woman next to him. “This is Anna, our sister.”

Dean shook her hand, bringing her hand up to his lips to kiss it gently. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” he said sincerely.

Anna giggled and from across the room Castiel yelled out, “Winchester, you’d better not be hitting on my sister!”

Dean whipped around, grinning widely at Castiel. “She ain’t even your blood sister!”

Anna pulled her hand away, still laughing. “Get me a beer, Romeo,” she demanded.

Dean put his hand over his heart, pretending to look wounded. “It’s my party!” Nonetheless, he retrieved a beer from the kitchen, pressing it into Anna’s hand before heading to the backyard. A volleyball net was set up, the grill was was already hot and there were three coolers worth of beer next to it. The air was humid and heavy, but the sun wasn’t too hot on his skin, thankfully.

Sam was tossing a volleyball back and forth with his friend Adam, the girl he’d been crushing on forever-Jess?- was sitting off at the side, smiling at the jokes the boys were cracking between them.

“Bobby!” Dean stuck his head back into the kitchen. “Let’s get those patties and dogs out here! I’m starving!”

From the kitchen, Bobby broke away from his conversation with Ellen, grumbling under his breath. “I’m comin’, I’m comin’; boy you’re always hungry, that’s nothin’ new!”

Dean laughed loudly. “Of course I am! I’m a college grad now!”

Jo gave a whoop, jumping onto Dean’s back as they followed Bobby outside, readying the food to be grilled. Castiel came up behind him and yanked Jo away, tickling her sides and causing her to squeal loudly.

By the time that they had all sat down outside to eat, the party was in full swing. Dean was drinking his third beer (after Bobby had forced a glass of water into his hand, bitching about the fourth of July) and was full after two hamburgers and Castiel’s unfinished hotdog (a piece of information that Jo shamelessly teased him about when her mother wasn’t within earshot).

The sun was setting and the cicadas were coming out. With AC/DC playing loudly from the kitchen window, Dean was sure he couldn’t get happier. The idea of life getting any better made him feel like his heart was going to explode underneath his ribs, just stop short and leave him hanging in the moment. Call him a masochist, but he loved the thought.

Dean was lounging lazily in his seat, nursing his fourth beer, watching his family toss (see: violently lob) a volleyball back and forth over the net. Sam came over and kneeled by him. Dean grinned and ruffled his hair, laughing at the annoyed face he pulled. “What up, kid?”

“I’m not a kid,” Sam grumbled under his breath. He straightened up, though, his face softening as he said, “I wish dad was…” he sighed, trailing off, his shoulders slumping.

It felt as though the screen he’d been watching his life through began to shatter, just a small crack in the corner; the one he’d been trying to avoid looking at since his mother died. It was like it grew suddenly, spider webbing out. Dean cracked a small smile in response, resting his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You and me, both.”

Suddenly Castiel ran up to them, turned to Sam and calmly declared, “Sam, I’m going to kiss your brother now. You can leave if you’d like.”

Instantly, Sam’s soft expression morphed into a bitch face and he jolted away from them, running back to join his friends. Castiel leaned down then, gently cupping Dean’s chin with one hand and pulled him in for a passionate, yet still chaste, kiss. His lips were soft against Dean’s; comforting. Almost immediately, he felt the crack that he’d been visualizing recede, drawing back again into the recesses of his mind. He could almost physically feel Castiel making the reparations, applying glue and tape where needed, with only the gentlest of kisses given.

Castiel pulled away, his blue eyes bright with emotion. “Come on, we got you a cake.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but a smile was playing at his lips anyways. He let Castiel pull him up and kiss him again. When he pulled away, he maintained eye contact for a few more seconds, long enough to murmur “I love you,” before turning away, to the picnic table where Ellen had placed an elaborately decorated cake with _ConGRADulations, Dean!_ He snorted, swiped his finger through the icing and licked it off.

Ellen swatted the back of his head, causing him to bit down on the tip of his tongue. He turned to glare at her. “Boy, I _know_ we didn’t raise you with manners like those.” Her voice was sharp, like a whip cracking through the air.

Dean ducked his head, wiping his hand on his pants. “Sorry, ma’am,” he mumbled.

Ellen _hmph_ ’d in acquiescence and produced a large knife, prompting Dean to stumble backwards, away from it, in a slight panic. Ellen and sharp tools were a combo to make any grown man shit his pants. She made another satisfied sound and turned towards the cake, slicing smoothly, causing gentle divets in the frosting and then scooping out a large piece and plopping it on the brightly colored plates that they had gotten. “For our graduate,” she said with a playful smile, handing it to Dean.

“Hell yes!” he said quietly, accepting the plate and a plastic fork, hurrying away from his family, lest they try to shove the thing in his face.

“Dean Winchester, you act like an adult for once in your damn life and eat at this table with us!” Ellen’s voice was nearing shrill, a sign of danger for anyone under the age of thirty in her vicinity.

Dean pouted, shuffling back towards the table and swinging his legs over the bench. “I act like an adult,” he mumbled guiltily, stabbing his cake for a large bite.

Slowly, the bench filled up as everyone took their seats with cake, laughter and squeals occasionally breaking the air as Sam dabbed Jess’ nose with a finger full of frosting and then caught her as she nearly fell off of the bench. Castiel nudged in next to Dean, pressing a sugary sweet kiss to his mouth and snorting when Gabriel made puking noises from across them. Dean ignored him, and instead opted to ask Anna about herself, her career, growing up with Castiel.

Anna filled the air with funny stories about Castiel tottering around after having been adopted, the time he fell face first into a toilet when he was only nine months old, the time that he jumped out of a treehouse when he was six. They stayed away from the sensitive topic of their adopted parents, the running away. by the time that their plates were covered by only smears of frosting (except Gabriel’s, considering he’d licked his) and Dean had side stitches from laughing so hard. Castiel looked positively red, glaring at his plate as though he could trade places with it.

Finally he stood up, abrupt and too fast, knocking his knee on the table. “Shall we get the champagne?” he asked loudly.

Dean’s brow furrowed. “Why the hell did you guys get champagne?”

Gabriel got a look in his eye and Anna became suddenly engrossed in the horizon. Bobby was the one who answered. “Because it’s a big fuckin’ deal boy. Lemme get those glasses…”

Bobby came back from the kitchen, carrying a container of little champagne glasses and two bottles of champagne. Dean couldn’t read the label from where he was seated but could only hope it wasn’t the absolutely disgusting kind that made him feel like he’s just sucked on a lemon peel.

Over the course of ten minutes, the plastic glasses were handed out, even to Sam and his friends, seeing that Ellen had explicitly asked their parents if it were okay. Dean held his glass tentatively, unsure of what to do with it.

“I’d like to make a toast!” Bobby announced. Immediately, Dean groaned, pressing his palm into his face. Bobby made a face at him. “You shut the hell up, it’s for you...like I said! A toast to Dean, for hauling his head out of his ass and earning this degree! Ya’ll may not know it, but I put up with this boy for the two years it took him to get the damn thing, which meant putting up with his dirty ass clothes during finals, catching him at the kitchen table at two in the morning, nearly taking a textbook to the head, one time.”

Dean jolted. “Hey, that wasn’t-!” Bobby pinned him with a look and he closed his mouth grudgingly.

“But you know what? He did it, he pulled through. He bitched and moaned about it and I’m pretty sure I’ve never spent more on coffee in my life, but he sure as hell did it. To Dean!”

“To Dean!” Everyone chorused, taking a small drink from their cups.

Dean only shook his head, a small smile playing on the edge of his lips. He looked up, frowning a little when he realized Castiel was nowhere to be found? _Course the fucker disappeared while they were toasting me._

“I have one!” Jo cried out.

“Oh, kill me now,” Dean groaned, closing his eyes.

“It’s for Castiel, you ungrateful shit,” she snapped. Dean opened his eyes, surprised when Castiel was standing behind him again. _Where the fuck?_ Dean mouthed up at him. Castiel only smiled down at him, laying a grounding hand on his shoulder.

“ _Any_ ways,” Jo said. “Castiel, for being there for Dean, and being what he needed, when he needed it. You did a lot for him, Sam, _and_ Bobby, even if the old fart never said anything. Pretty sure that Dean wouldn’t have made it without you. To Cas!”

“To Cas!” Loud laughter, more drinking of the champagne. Castiel was the one blushing now, running a hand through his already messy hair. Dean stuck his tongue out at him, retracting it when Castiel raised a particularly wolfish eyebrow at him.

It got a little quiet for a moment and Dean was starting to feel awkward, contemplating chugging the rest of his champagne, even if it did make his body shudder at the odd taste it left on his tongue. From behind him, Castiel spoke up. “My turn,” he said.

Dean froze, turning full-bodily towards Castiel, unable to determine if the toast Castiel was prepared to give was for him, or someone else.

“I actually have two,” he continued, shrugging. “There’s a lot to be thankful for. Firstly, to Sam and Bobby, for inadvertently letting me move in with them, giving me a place to stay and a helping me save a couple thousand dollars. Living here is a lot cheaper than the dorms.” There was some scattered laughter. “They took me in, and I appreciate it beyond words. To Sam and Bobby.”

“Sam and Bobby!” From the edge of the yard, Sam looked shy and bashful, yet still took his obligatory sip of champagne. Bobby frowned slightly into his cup before gulping back a particularly large sip.

Anna’s voice was soft when she asked, “What’s your second toast, Castiel?”

Castiel’s jaw clenched tightly. His heart was thundering in his chest and he was wondering if he was going to have a heart attack. He’d never been so nervous in his life, he was sure of it. He cleared his throat. “Well, it’s not necessarily a toast…”

Next to him, Dean straightened up, giving him a confused look. He tried to smile reassuringly, but it felt weak on his face. He cleared his throat again. “I want to say thank you, again. But this is directed to Dean,” his smile grew a little bit. “Jo said that I was what you needed, when you needed it, but truly, you were -are-what I need, when I need it. You saved me, Dean, whether you realize it or not. I enjoy the time that I get to spend with you, even if it was at two in the morning while you’re studying for another test, or doing our laundry together for ten minutes or those brief moments I can steal while you’re waking up in the mornings.”

Dean was staring at his shoes, blushing, pretty sure that if he was looking at Castiel he’d burst into tears, which alone was already a foreign and terrifying feeling.

“I’m so happy to have you in my life,” Castiel continued. “Obscenely, inappropriately happy. Every time that I wake up and roll over to see you there, I feel as though I may have died and gone to heaven.” Dean snorted, his eyes stinging. " I love you so much, more love than I thought my heart capable of holding." Castiel reached over, pressing his palm to Dean’s chin, pulling his face up. He choked a little when he saw that Castiel’s eyes too, were glistening with unshed tears. Castiel swallowed heavily and kneeled down in front of Dean, on one knee. Something shimmered in his free hand.

This time, Dean really did choke. “ _Cas_ ,” he gasped. “Cas, that’s not how you make a toast.”

Castiel gave a watery chuckle, looking down for a moment before meeting Dean’s eye again, and holding up the golden band, a small ruby and topaz embedded in the gold-he and Castiel’s birthstones- between his fingers. “Dean Winchester, will you marry me?”

Dean wasn’t sure when his palms had covered his mouth. He was now _dangerously_ at risk of crying and _dammit_ he was not one of _those_! “Jesus _Christ_ , Cas, _yes, yes, yes_ , I’ll fucking marry you!” He tackled Castiel into the grass, kissing any expanse of skin that he could reach. Beneath him, he was pretty sure that Castiel was sobbing, but he couldn’t stop, pressing his lips everywhere he could.

“Dean, _Dean_ ,” Castiel was laughing now. “ _Dean_ , let me put the ring on you.”

Dean sat up, still straddling Castiel, and some bleary part of his mind recognized what a bitch those grass stains would be to get out and he laughed at himself, suddenly aware that tears were actually rolling down his cheeks. Fuck. He held his hand out to Castiel, annoyed with the slight tremor going through his arm and hand.

Castiel’s hands were trembling as well, as he slid the ring onto Dean’s finger, and then interlocked their hands. They made eye contact again and Dean pressed a fist into his mouth, a choked sound escaping his throat. He surged forward and kissed Castiel again.

Behind them, his family was cheering loudly, clapping and jumping (at least Jo was). The noise was almost deafening, when added to the thunderous beat of his heart, the blood rushing in his ears, Castiel’s breath heavy in the mix. He pulled back, wiping furiously at his face, his eyes catching on the sudden glint on his left hand, his heart skipping again.

Dean helped Castiel up, only to pull him into a crushing hug. “I can’t believe you just proposed to me, you fucker. I can’t believe it.”

“I’d pinch you,” Castiel offered coolly. “But you’ve got a piece of metal around you finger which is very much solid, and should convince you that this is, in fact, truly happening.”

“You fucker,” Dean laughed into his neck, the sound muffled and a little bit watery.

Castiel shrugged, holding Dean tightly. “Well, you did say a long time ago to never let you propose to me. So I took matters into my own hands.”

Dean stepped away, his jaw dropping, his mind reeling from the memory; the first time he'd said 'I love you' to Castiel, when he'd found out about him getting clean. “You _fucker_!” he repeated breathlessly, grabbing Castiel for another crushing kiss.

“Save it for the honeymoon!” Gabriel shouted.

“Fuck you!” Dean yelled back. “I’m getting _married_!”

He never thought that he’d be so ecstatic to say those words, he never thought they’d feel so good on his tongue. But, oh, how they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, everyone! Thank you so much for those of you who hung in there with me and encouraged me. Your kind words made each and every chapter I wrote, worth it. I had a blast writing this fic and I'm really annoyed that I can't find the original prompt to give credit to the idea.  
> Big thank you to [Ara](http://arasiriel.tumblr.com/) and [Iron_Clad_Angel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Iron_Clad_Angel/pseuds/Iron_Clad_Angel) for encouraging me to continue and always rooting me on, Ara, especially for reading my very first chapter prior to posting to let me know that it was decent enough!  
> Follow me on [Tumblr](http://veganasana.tumblr.com/), send me prompts and stuff; it might be a long while before I start another legit fic!  
> Thank you again, so so so much!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you [Emma](http://destielallaround.tumblr.com/) for the artwork!


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